Documenti di Didattica
Documenti di Professioni
Documenti di Cultura
o pp o s i t e : a l am y
78 Ap r i l/ M a y 2 0 0 7 isl a n d s . c om 79
it’s odd: i’m wandering higgledy-piggledy down a
bustling street clogged with tourists and taxis in Philipsburg, on St. Maarten, looking for some-
Unfortunately, says Joel, the restaurant is out of foie gras this evening because it is Saint
Martin’s Day on the island. I don’t get the connection, so Joel, who wears a black tie with
place fun for dinner, someplace island-y that serves umbrella rum drinks, yet every cafe I find a bottle of wine on it, explains that Saint Martin is the patron saint of foie gras. Or maybe
has a poster in the window with a Toulouse Lautrec-inspired can-can girl announcing “Le Beau- the patron saint of goose farmers. He’s not sure. Anyway, everyone has been ordering foie
jolais Nouveau Est Arrivé” — this year’s new Beaujolais has arrived. Charming little bistros tempt gras tonight. It’s been a veritable goose-liver fest. In the Alsace region of France, famous for
me not with locally caught snapper sautéed with fiery scotch bonnet peppers, as I’d expect, but its foie gras, on the feast day of Saint Martin they begin force-feeding the geese, Joel tells me.
with aujourd’hui specials, chalked up on sandwich boards, of saumon aux épices creoles, gambas Then he smiles and says, “But here, on Saint Martin’s Day, we force-feed the tourists.”
sautées and sole de Douvres meunière. Small shops, still open in the early evening, proclaim new Instead I order a sampler plate of snails prepared seven different ways — with wild
deliveries of Camembert and pâté. A hidden cafe down an alleyway not only makes fresh, hot mushrooms, shallots, garlic butter, profiteroles, cherry tomatoes, red peppers and saf-
crepes, but also roasts their own coffee, which they serve “style français,” as the sign says. fron — and a bottle of the freshly arrived Beaujolais Nouveau. As Joel hurries off to get
If it weren’t for the floral shirts, breezy sundresses and flip-flops everyone is wearing, I my wine, I settle in, taking notice of the plastic grapes hanging from the ceiling and the
could be strolling around the famed Latin Quarter in Paris or getting lost down the narrow Provence-inspired mustard-colored décor. Edith Piaf is sadly singing “La Vie en Rose”
Owner of Au Petit streets of the Marais. And yet I’m in the Caribbean. I think. So what’s going on here? when Joel comes back to open my wine. Did I know, he asks as he dramatically pops the If you’re looking
Cafe, Jay Pauly, “Monsieur must know that this island is the gastronomic capital of the Caribbean,” cork, that “on St. Martin, we eat more foie gras per capita than Parisians?” for a seat with a
yields a drink that says French-born Joel Morand, the proprietor of L’Escargot Restaurant, one of those “No,” I say. “It can’t be possible.” view, then try Kali’s
looks like it packs charming Philipsburg cafes I’ve walked past and now decide to give a try, lured largely “C’est vrai.” And here he puffs out his barrel chest like, well, a stuffed goose. Beach Bar, which
a punch. Au Petit, overlooks Friar’s
by their chalkboard special proclaiming, “Foie gras ce soir!” Joel’s quite the character. Later that evening, while I enjoy profiteroles with chocolate
on the Dutch side Bay on the French
of the island, is the Yes, I had heard this claim of haute cuisine in the French West Indies — it’s one of the reasons sauce and an espresso, Joel and his wife, Sonya, dress up in costumes and put on a caba- side. Their special-
best place for a I came here (the others being the beaches) — but I figured it was more or less one of those fatuous ret show in the restaurant. They’re partial to American country-western stars. Sometimes, ties are lobster and
morning coffee. chamber-of-commerce proclamations that tend to be more wishful thinking than anything else. Joel says, they dress up and perform as Kenny Rogers and Dolly Parton. “But tonight it is full-moon parties.
80 Ap r i l/ M a y 2 0 0 7 isl a n d s . c om 81
all about Johnny Cash and June Carter.” In a soft
French accent, Joel and Sonya sing “Jackson.”
Listen to me: If you ever get the chance, buy
a ticket, fly to St. Martin and have dinner at
L’Escargot some Friday night just to watch Joel
and Sonya sing “Jackson.” It’s better than watch-
ing Parisians dance with monkeys at the Moulin
Rouge in Montmartre. And every bit as louche.
82 Ap r i l/ M a y 2 0 0 7 isl a n d s . c om 83
At the Guavaberry
Emporium in Dutch
Philipsburg, try the
liqueur or the hot
sauces they bottle.
84 Ap r i l/ M a y 2 0 0 7 isl a n d s . c om Ap r i l/ M a y 2 0 0 7 isl a n d s . c om 85
fortunately, there’s a perfect foil for haute cuisine, served up homestyle at the lolos.
“suggests” that maybe I don’t really want french fries with my grilled fish. “Probably that the sun isn’t nearly as intense as it was when I first sat down. In fact, it’s almost dark.
you meant to say rice and peas,” he says. No doubt. “It’s like eating at Grandma’s on a Sunday afternoon, isn’t it?” Jacqueline asks. “Just
“And you probably forgot you wanted some johnnycake and a little fried plantain good comfort food and lots of time to enjoy it.”
with the ribs, just to mop things up,” he adds. And, of course, he’s right. The queen of comfort food on St. Martin, however, has to be Leona Wallace. Leona
Then he places a bottle of spicy chien sauce in front of me and gives me a chunk of conch is the cook at Mary’s Boon Beach Plantation on Simson Bay on the Dutch side of the
boudin, a sausage made from the mollusk. “For while you’re waiting for the ribs,” he says and island, and she’s been there forever. Mary’s Boon is like Rick’s Café in the movie
shows me how to spread it on still-warm johnnycakes and then douse it with chien sauce. Casablanca. Eventually everyone on St. Martin seems to pass through Mary’s Boon, if not
“I make that myself,” he says. It tastes like liquid jerk and is made with olive oil, garlic, for a meal, then to have a drink and watch the sun set over one of the prettiest bays in the
hot and sweet pepper, onions and lots of spices. “I can’t tell you what all,” he says. Caribbean. Ask Leona how old she is, and she’ll just laugh at you and say, “Not the age it
Emile then brings me over a sagging plate of grilled ribs as well as some chicken and crab says in the book, tha’s for sure.” Leona, who is as large as Bessie Smith and has one of
The 37-square- At Mr. Busby’s
mile island is backs, which he creates by taking the meat out of a crab, adding some spices, breading and those great, round, passively sad faces that suggests she has seen just about everything, Beach Bar on the
both French and baking it and then stuffing it back in the shell. He hands me more of his chien sauce and tells started working for Mary Pomeroy, the original owner of Mary’s Boon, 35 years ago. Dutch side, chase
Dutch. Take a drive me to just squirt it on the whole damn thing — the chicken, crab backs, ribs, everything. There are some great stories about Mary Pomeroy, many of them apocryphal, and Leona down baby-back
outside the Dutch “That’s the way we eat on St. Martin,” he says. will talk about her all night if she’s of the mood. She’ll tell you how some people say Mary, like ribs with a Carib
city of Philipsburg beer. Then take ad-
There’s no rush to eating food like this. I get up once in a while to grab another beer or to Humphrey Bogart’s character, Rick Blaine, was a spy during World War II and got into trou-
and the French city vantage of its loca-
of Marigot, and you visit a bit with Emile and his wife, Jacqueline. They introduce me to just about everybody who ble on another Caribbean island for her involvement in a revolution (gun running). Evidently, tion on Dawn Beach
will find quiet stops by to pick up some food to go, and after a short chat, I might have another chicken leg she was one of those Isak Dinesen characters, a woman always doing things that people said and go swimming or
countryside. or a bite of johnnycake, a sip of beer. God only knows how long I’ve been here, but I do notice she shouldn’t be doing, and St. Martin ended up being her Casablanca. She was also a pilot and snorkeling.
86 87
chose to build her small inn next to the airport so she could taxi to the hotel’s front door.
“Then Mary went flying one day and just disappeared,” Leona says, rubbing her
arthritic knuckles. “Nobody knows what happened to her. They never found her plane
or anything. I felt very sad about it because she was special.” Play it again, Sam.
The sun has set, and no one has bothered to turn the lights on in the bar where
Leona and I have been talking. In the fading light, Leona sits silently at a little table,
her arms folded on her lap, looking like a dark Buddha.
“You want to stay for dinner, honey?” she asks me.
“What are you cooking tonight?” Mount Vernon
Plantation
“What night is it?” Grand Case
“I believe it’s Friday.” Orient
Bay
briny mussels. I’ve had a niçoise salad with grilled walk THE LINE Stand on the International Bridge over DETAILS FLY to St.
the Oyster Pond lagoon at Captain Oliver’s Resort on the
yellowfin tuna and, of course, Leona’s lobster cre- island’s east side and straddle two countries at once: Maarten on American
ole. There’s been foie gras made with old rum and France and the Netherlands. The hotel sits on the bound- Airlines. aa.com
KAYAK across the in-
stewed figs, foie gras with orange juice and ginger ary line separating the two sides of the island. Captain visible French/Dutch
Oliver’s suites are tucked within hillside tropical gar-
bread, and foie gras with mango and hibiscus leaves. dens, and white-sand Dawn Beach is only a one-minute boundary line in
It’s been fabulous. But I’ve intentionally taxi-boat ride across the lagoon. Rates from $140, includ- Simson Bay Lagoon,
the Caribbean’s
saved the best for last — or at least what many ing breakfast. captainolivers.com largest saltwater
on St. Martin have told me should be the best WAITING TO EAT Visit the Mount Vernon Plantation, an lagoon. Kayak rentals
18th-century Caribbean estate located between Grand from $15 per hour.
meal. On my last day, I take up residence at La Case and Orient Bay. Tour the grounds, which have
trisportsxm.com
At Temptation Samanna resort on the secluded western end of more than 20 varieties of fruit trees, and learn how cof- EAT fresh chicken at
Restaurant on the the island and, that night, join a friend, Thibaut fee and rum were produced here a hundred years ago. Poulet d’Orleans near
Dutch side, chef Admission is $12 and includes coffee and rum samples; Quartier d’Orléans.
Asso, who just happens to be the resort’s som- plantationmontvernon.com. See the largest exhibit of ex-
Dino Jagtiani gives 011-590-590-87-48-24
melier. In their famed wine cellar, Thibaut cares otic parrots in the Caribbean at the St. Maarten Park in SPEND US dollars.
a creative flair to all
for more than 10,000 bottles of wine » to meet chef Philipsburg. This nearly 5-acre zoological and LEARN MORE at
his dishes. Another botanical park is home to more than 500 mam-
that rest quietly in a cave beneath jagtiani and try his st-martin.org and st-
Dutch temptation mals from South and Central America and the
recipes, go to pg 98. maarten.com.
is Cupecoy Beach. the restaurant. (continued on page 100) Caribbean. Admission is $10. stmaartenpark.com
88 Ap r i l/ M a y 2 0 0 7 isl a n d s . c om 89
St. Martin (from page 89)
The candlelit cave is Thibaut’s per-
» Bring Back Made from
sonal playroom. While sipping cham- oak-aged rum, cane sugar
pagne, he takes me on a tour, showing and wild guavaberries,
off several bottles of a dusty Romanée- guavaberry liqueur has
Conti that go for something like been an island staple for
$4,000 each, rare crates of Condrieu hundreds of years and is
made with berries picked
from the Rhone Valley and Pontensac from guavaberry trees grown in the
from Bordeaux. center of the island. This woodsy, spicy
Thibaut can hardly contain his en- and fruity concoction was traditionally
thusiasm for these liquid riches. “We drunk around Christmastime, right
have crates of the best wine found any- after the berries had ripened. The Sint
Maarten Guavaberry Company bottles
where in the world,” he says. “Down their own liqueur at their headquar-
here, you forget you are in the Carib- ters, the Guavaberry Emporium,
bean. You are in France, no?” a former governor’s residence in
Yes. Until we go back upstairs and Philipsburg. Buy a bottle ($15.95) or
are seated in the opulent open-air consider their other guavaberry-
infused products, including honeys
dining room with a sunset view of and barbecue sauces. guavaberry.com
Anguilla, floating like a giant green
turtle in the tranquil sea. The air is
perfumed with the tropical scent of to where the bottom begins to sharply
frangipani and ylang-ylang, the breeze drop off and the water turns a cobalt
rustles the royal palms around us and blue. Eyes closed, I float on my back.
white orchids float in clear vases on From the shore I hear a voice calling my
the white-linen-covered tables. name. “It’s time, Mr. Lansing. It’s time.”
The meal is extraordinary: a tartar of But not just yet. For a few minutes
diver scallops and ahi with lime; herb- more I float, thinking of this surprising
crusted halibut with candied papaya and gastronomic island in the West Indies
asparagus; Kobe beef sirloin with sautéed and its smoky, sweet conch boudin sau-
morels; and a pinot-chocolate reduction. sages at the lolos; Dino Jagtiani’s foie gras
There are foodies who travel annu- in peanut sauce and port-wine fig jelly;
ally to Paris just to dine; next time, they grilled lobster caught off the Saba Bank
should consider St. Martin. The food and served with icy-cold Carib beer at
has been that good. Mr. Busby’s Beach Bar on Dawn Beach.
The more I think about it, the more I
i have only half a day left on realize that St. Martin isn’t really French
the island and, on a whim, have rented at all. Not in a Parisian sort of way. What
one of La Samanna’s beach cabanas it is, exactly, is kind of hard to say. It’s as
along Baie Longue, a white-sand beach exotic as a ylang-ylang bloom, as spicy as
that stretches along a bay. The cabana homemade chien sauce and as mysteri-
has an oversize bed with huge pillows ous as the tale of Mary Pomeroy. It’s a
and teak chaise lounges. An attendant unique dish, a strange but wonderful mé-
brings me fresh towels, cold water, lange of escargot and johnnycake, Veuve
even a bottle of champagne. It is a very Clicquot and homemade banana rum.
strange thing to sit in a private cabana It’s Gauguin in Tahiti with all its bright
drinking champagne by yourself. But I tropical colors and languid beaches. It’s
do it anyway. I have told the attendant, like a David Lynch movie, all mixed up
in his white shorts and polo shirt, that I and confusing but always fascinating.
have an early afternoon flight and must It is, as Joel Morand whispered
be off the beach no later than 1 p.m. to me just before launching into
z ach st ova l l
100 Ap r i l/ M a y 2 0 0 7 isl a n d s . c om