Los Angeles: Marukai Pacific Market

Polly and Mom choose baked goodies.

Despite what I might say in person, I like living in Maryland. It's where I grew up and for all its' faults, there are a lot worse places I could live - never mind that Baltimore is one of the most crime riddled cities in America.

The problem with Baltimore is its' lack of a proper Japanese market. Sure, we've got a lot of "Asian" markets, but they're mainly Korean centric markets featuring Korean product. Maybe it's because I lived in Honolulu for so long but nothing beats a proper Japanese market.


Portuguese Sausage, Saimin and More.

There are lots of similarities between Japanese and Korean markets but the Korean ones never seem to be on par with the Japanese in terms of presentation. Stuff just looks better in the Japanese markets and the City of Gardena has these in spades.

How I dream about the Japanese style of white bread with its' fluffy white interior and square shape that toasts to a golden crisp perfection. Slather on some butter on that hot toast and it's just amazing. The Japanese are utterly obsessed with French style pastry, done with their own twist. There's a brioche stuffed with cod roe. Amazing. And the honey butter toast. Again, amazing.


The Holy Grail of Hawaii: Zippy's Chili.

Today we've made our usual stop at the Marukai Pacific Market. While Marukai is known for it's Japanese product, this part of Southern California is also home to large population of local people from Hawaii and this is reflected in their offerings.

Alongside the Ito-En teas are Hawaii classics like Redondo's Portuguese Sausage, S&S Saimin, and the Holy Grail of Hawaii foods: Zippy's Chili. And it's only $7.99 per box (a tremendous savings over the $70 I spent a few years ago to have the same chili airlifted to me from Honolulu).


Homewares for your kitchen.

There's even gallons of Aloha Shoyu and Diamond Bakery Soda Crackers nestled into the aisles. These people don't know how good they have it here in California.

In another aisle we find an amazing assortment of white rice in every shape, color, size and variety. In Maryland, we have Thailand Jasmine and Kokuho Rose. Here we find esoteric brands of rice like Matsuri, Tsuru Mai and Tamaki. In the frozen case we find Mochi Ice Cream, Melona bars and all the Japanese brands in the Kana that I can't even read.


A wide selection of rice.

Venture over to the fresh section and the assortment of seafood is dizzying. Beautiful cuts of O-Toro, Hamachi and Uni await your selection. As I spy the dried cuttlefish and rice crackers, I laugh giddily like a kid in a candy store.

The hard part about being in Marukai is restraint. I want to sample all of these foods that I can't get at home. In Maryland, there are no Japanese markets like this, we're extremely limited. The nearest proper Japanese market is in Edgewater, New Jersey across from New York City. Too far for a weekly shopping excursion.


Dried Cuttlefish for your snacking pleasure.


Fatty O-Toro in the fresh seafood section.

In spite of the fact that I can't try it all, our cart is getting filled. Filled with The Good Stuff. Later, as we cook the short grain California Koshihikari Tamaki Gold rice, my mom remarks that she hasn't had rice like this in a long time. The short grain is rich, flavorful, starchy and incredibly superior to the Kokuho Rose we get at home.

I will be back again to stock up before my trip home.



The new hotness in rice cookers: digital controlled induction.


Marukai Pacific Market
1620 Redondo Beach Boulevard
Gardena, CA 90247
310-464-8888
www.marukai.com

On The Road With Parents

My Philly Cheesesteak at The Greene Turtle.

After a few days at home, I'm back on the road again and headed for Los Angeles. This time, I've got Mom and Dad in tow which means that we're headed to the airport early.

When it comes to traveling, my father is a bit of a worry-wort. If the flight leaves at 5pm, he wants to be there at 3pm, two-thirty would be even better in his mind.

As for myself, I prefer the endurance of travel to be as short as possible. If we don't have to check in until an hour before the flight, then I don't want to be there even 61 minutes ahead of time. Better yet if I can squeeze in at 45 minutes. Naturally, this causes a bit of friction between the two of us as we spar and parry for the advantage.

Today, I'm just not in the mood to debate the issue and since we're leaving my truck at the airport parking lot, I realize we need to get there a bit earlier than usual for me. Even after the delay of driving to the parking lot, gathering our stuff, taking the shuttle to the terminal, checking in and going through security, we're still two hours ahead of our flight time.

Luckily, there's some things to take care of before our flight. Dad wants to find a sudoku book and we're off to the bookstore. As he searches the stacks, I spy the latest issue of Cigar Aficionado with Daniel Craig on the cover and instantly nurture fantasies of my traveling around the world being surrounded by sexy women. Mom is reviewing the gossip magazines.

Even after we finish our pre-flight shopping, there's still 1:45 left before our flight. Maybe we should get something to eat.

In the D Concourse is a branch of The Greene Turtle - Ocean City, Maryland's famous bar with locations in Towson and around the state. Since I'm usually arriving just in time for my flights, I never have the time to eat here but today, we've got all the time in the world.

Right away, I'm disappointed. I was hoping for some of their appetizer options like they have at their Towson location. The airport menu is extremely limited to a selection of sandwiches. My dad goes for the Chesapeake Burger with crab imperial, bacon and American cheese. Mom chooses the Pigskin Burger with grilled ham and swiss cheese. I go with the Philly Cheesesteak.

The food is typical bar fare. Nothing spectacular but not atrocious. The fries are frozen processed fries that beg for ketchup and my cheesesteak is a bit heavy on the sodium but neither good nor bad. It just is. I wish they had their appetizer menu here.

We hang out at the Greene Turtle for about an hour before we saunter down to our gate. As we approach, I notice that they've already started boarding. Huh? Our flight isn't until 5:45pm, it's five minutes past five - what's the deal?


Mom and Dad and their burgers.

My parents don't notice and decide to go to the bathroom before we leave. No problem I tell them. I don't bother to tell my dad they've already started boarding because he'll probably get upset. As I approach the gate, I notice that the departure time is 5:25pm and not 5:45pm - ooops!

To be honest, when it comes to flying, I'm pretty bad at it. I tend to know the general time of the flight and just go with that. Plus, I'm not one who likes to board early, or even with my group boarding number (even though with my status, I can board first). No, I prefer to board last. Dead last even. I don't want to spend any longer inside that aluminum tube than I absolutely must. Besides, when you're the absolutely last person to board, you know there's no one behind you which means you can grab any open seat you'd like - it's not as though someone else is going to board and tell you that you're in their seat!

By the time my parents return, boarding is almost complete. Everyone else has gotten on board already and they're just waiting for us. My dad's a little surprised that we're the last ones left but we still made the flight and we're on our way.

Not a bad way to start our trip.

AA: Super Mario Brother

After arriving in Miami, I had been trying to move my morning flight back to Baltimore until the evening 8pm flight. I figured that since I was in Florida, I might take a quick trip down to Key West to check it out.

Unfortunately, the cost to change my flight was going to be just over two thousand dollars, so Key West would have to wait. Guess First Class doesn't have it's privileges.

I'm not the kind of flyer who likes to board right away. I prefer to be last. I've already got a seat and my hand carry is small enough that I don't have to worry about storing it. Plus, by waiting, I've avoided all the crowds and jockeying for position that happens no matter if you're in steerage, business or first. I can simply walk on, go to my seat, sit down and order my mimosa.

I'll admit it: when it comes to flying, I'm a sissy. After years of flying in upgraded seats, it's so difficult to fly regular economy. And after having status with United, I really couldn't bear the thought of flying as just a regular anonymous passenger on American. So, I went out and bought a first class ticket to Managua.

Now, I know that may sound excessive and that I'm harboring delusions of being a Big Three Executive (I am!), but when you consider that the coach fare on United was just over two thousand dollars (BWI-MIA on UA and MIA-MGA on Taca), the not quite eight hundred dollar first class fare on American is a downright bargain. And I don't have to pay baggage fees plus I get free use of the Admiral's Club Lounge at MIA.

Anyway, those reasons are neither here nor there. As I'm boarding my flight back home to Baltimore in seat 1B, I notice that my flying companion in 1A is watching a Seal video on his iPhone and listening to it with a pair of very large, full ear coverage headphones. That's not necessarily unusual but the volume at which he was listening certainly was. As I'm standing in the aisle, stowing my bag, I can hear the refrain:

"And now that your rose is in bloom,
a light hits the gloom on the grey."

I mean that shit is LOUD. I can hear it. Rather clearly. This kid is grooving to the music. He's in the zone. He's all about Seal.

After I get seated, we chat a bit. He's a newfound Seal fan and asks me if I'm into Seal. I tell him that I like some of his music but am not well versed. He's recently discovered Seal and is just digging it. I don't want to tell him that I've been listening to Seal since 1995.

I've always found people in business and first to be an eccentric lot. They have to be. Most of the people on this side of the curtain fly a lot. Typically, they fly at least 25K to 50K miles per year. Many push over 100K miles per year per airline. It's amazing. I find 50K a year to be excruciating. I can't imagine doubling, tripling or quadrupling that amount. I'd get mildly eccentric too.

My seatmate is no different. He's got tattoos, dresses stylishly, wears a fat watch and has a stack of chicken wing boxes from Pizza Hut that he starts to tear through as the flight safety video starts.

I've never had Pizza Hut wings and I've never seen anyone eat wings like this guy. He's got the technique. One bite and the meat slides off. There's none of this chomp, chomp, chomp I see at Hooter's. This efficient technique keeps the lips clean and the fingers minimally soiled. Both the technique and the speed at which this guy is devouring his wings is most impressive.

He's got four boxes but only eats three. He offers me the fourth box stating he can't finish any more. I thank him for his generosity. Actually, I could use some wings right about now.

Later, after the flight safety video is done and we're in the air, I'll eat the wings. They're not bad but they're not good either. I don't know if they were crispy at one point but the sauce has softened the skin. The wings are tender. Extremely tender and the meat slips off the bone quite readily. I try his technique and success! I feel accomplished as an expert wing eater should.

My seatmate is a pretty relaxed and chill guy. We chat a bit about Miami and what was going on that weekend. He was in town for some Victoria's Secret event and is heading home to visit his mom. I guess he travels quite a bit. We chat more about work and he tells me he sings for a living. In a group? No, as a solo act.

To be honest, I've never heard of him before and tell him that. He's not offended (or doesn't seem to be anyway), which is good sign that he hasn't been affected by the industry like many others. As we chat, I think to myself what I was like when I was 22 and venturing out to see the world. It was a fun time and he seems like a pretty good chap. As we depart, I wish him well in his life and career.

I'm not familiar with his music, but maybe you are. Here's his website.

Miami: La Carreta

When asking about Cuban food in Miami, one name always seems to be in the mix: La Carreta. Luckily, there's an outlet in Miami airport right by American Airlines check-in. I decided to investigate.

Even though I'm in the coffee business, the one drink that has always eluded me is the Cafe Cubano or Cuban Coffee. When you're so far removed from Havana (or Miami), you hear all sorts of conflicting things about how it's made. That they put sugar in the portafilter, in the cup or whatever. Point is: you can't be sure because no one seems to have investigated it for themselves.

Today, I watched them in action and it's merely putting lots of sugar in the bottom of a cup and then pulling a double shot of espresso over it. Simple. Easy. Done.


Cafe Cubano

Sadly, they're using some commercial coffee like Cafe Bustelo but perhaps that's the true flavor of a Cafe Cubano. Either way, the crema is kinda thick and the coffee is decent enough but densely sweet.

Next up, a ham empanada. The crust is flaky but the ham and cheese filling is extraordinarily salty. Man, it's like a blizzard of salt. I need water just to cut the salt on my palate.


Cortadito with Evaporated Milk.

Of course, one coffee drink isn't enough so I order a Cortadito with Evaporated Milk. It's a small drink of espresso, evaporated milk for sweetness and steamed milk. It's not as sweet as the Cubano and the bitterness of the espresso has been toned down by the milk. It's actually kinda tasty. I make a mental note to try it when I get home.

I grab a couple more empanadas with the intent of eating them on the way home. I don't actually eat them until much later at home. Both the chicken and beef empanadas are decent but still way too salty for my tastes.

Sadly, I've had better.


Ham Empanada


Chicken Empanada


Beef Empanada


La Carreta
Terminal D - 2nd Level
Miami International Airport
Miami, Fl
www.lacarreta.com

Miami: South Beach

Am I Crockett or Am I Tubbs?

With the bag of lamb safely tucked away and the top rolled down on my Chrysler Sebring Convertible, I'm flying down I-395 and Route 41 into Miami Beach. It's a lovely and cool night here but I'm warm in my optimism, plus I've got the heater cranked to Full Blast.

I don't get to Miami very often and haven't been here since the early 1990s. In fact, I don't have too good an impression of Miami with it's status-conscious denizens and ostentatious pretentiousness. It's just not a place that has appealed to me. Ever. I'd much rather be in Honolulu than Miami.

But I'm game and open to see what the city has to offer. So far, the food has been good but now I'm driving into the Belly of the Beast to see what's what on a Monday night.

Exceeding the national speedlimit on the MacArthur Causeway, I realize that I saw Mike Lowrey and Marcus Burnett causing carnage and mayhem here in Bad Boys II.


I hope I'm not Agador.

Since it was nearly 10pm and a Monday night, I didn't get the full experience of Miami Beach. No bikini clad girls roller skating down Ocean Drive, no Lamborghinis blasting Arabic music and no nightclub called The Birdcage. What I did find was a large hip-hop party in celebration of some famous hip-hop DJ on Washington Avenue. There I found lots of the requisite SUVs, Chrysler 300s and more vehicles with very large chrome wheel, lots of bling and lots of cops.

Seems that no matter where you go in the world, crowds of black people scare white people.

Not really interested in the club scene, I found an open cigar shop and bought myself a stogie. Maybe I could look like The Pimp with my cigar and rental sebring convertible...

Or not.

Instead, I took a walk along the beach, chatted with a few girls and then took a tour of the retail architecture and design of the area. From there, it was another hair-raising ride at triple digit speeds along the highway back to my airport hotel.

Miami: Molina's Ranch Restaurant

The Bread.

After the not too long flight from Managua, I find myself in Miami for the night. I figured it would be a great way to cap off my Nicaragua trip with a night being fashionable in Florida.

Of course, I'm just not in the mood for a fancy place. I could go to Cielo or Azul but I can get pretty small plates of food or fusion just about anywhere in America. What I can't get at home is good Cuban food. So, after some consultations with friends across the country and the Internet, I decided to head to Molina's Ranch Restaurant in Hialeah - not too far from my hotel near the airport.


Watermelon Batida

I don't know what to expect while driving to Molina's. Is it going to be a fancy joint, a hole in the wall? I don't know. I just heard it was the place for Cuban and I'm going there. When I arrive, I find that it's neither. It's a nicely done stand-alone building with lots of seating outside for what must be long waiting times during their peak hours.

Inside, Molina's reminds me of Zippy's in Hawaii. It's nice, it's welcoming but it's functional. It's designed to serve lots of people en masse. It's kind of like Denny's. Luckily, the crowds are gone and I'm seated right away and the ballet begins.

In a moment, a basket of Pan Cubano lands on my table. Such interesting bread cooked in such an interesting way. It's white and baked in a manner that forms a crusty shell without it turning brown. I'm fascinated by the bread.

In a flash, they're ready for my order. I'll have a watermelon batida (which I have no idea what a "batida" is), an order of the conch fritters and the leg of lamb. I had been thinking about trying other stuff but the lamb sounded so good that I just couldn't pass it up - even though I knew there were two pieces.


Frituras de Cobo

The batida was like most Mexican agua frescas I've had in the past. Watermelon mixed with sugar, water and ice. This version is heavy on the sweet. Perhaps too heavy for me since I was tempted to water it down a bit.

Soon, the frituras de cobo arrived. Conch fritters. When I ordered, I had no idea what it would taste like. I'm not even sure if I've had conch before, but it was different so I ordered it and was rewarded. At first, the angry dark brown, nearly black fried exterior is off-putting. I wondered if they might have overcooked and burned the fritters? Maybe the oil was too hot.

Whatever the case, the fritters were tasty and had no aroma or flavor of being burnt. Crispy, crunchy exterior with a nearly creamy and chunky interior. Dip it in a little sauce and you were good to go.


Laconcito de Cordero

I suspect it's partly because the Cordero is braised and partly because Molina's is ready to handle the volume, but sooner rather than later, I found my Laconcito sitting in front of me - looking very meaty and massive. Crap.

With barely enough time to break into my appetizer, I've got these tasty and delicious-looking lamb shanks sitting in front of me. I'm in trouble. Oh, but look at those meaty bones filled with marrow. I guess there is a God.


Laconcito de Cordero, arroz blanco, frijoles negros y maduros.

One bite and it's just beauty. Soft, supple, fragrant - I'm transported to a happy place. A place where meat is flavorful and tender and filled with pretty lilac blossoms. Stewed in a rich, red sauce and served with peas and sliced red bell peppers, the flavor is delicate and delicious. I want to tear into it - hard.

But I savor it. Right away, I realize that it's just too much for one man to finish. I will have leftovers and I have no dining companions whose forks I have to parry. As I savor the rich, meaty and silky texture of the marrow, I'm happy knowing that tomorrow morning, I will enjoy a breakfast fit for a king.

The lamb comes with black beans, rice and plantains. They're all delicious accompaniments but all the lamb really needs is the rice. A bed of rice to pop the flavor of the meat. Like stretched muslin, proper rice is a flavor canvas upon which one can paint a masterpiece.

As I fall out into the night with a bag of leftovers, I'm left with beautiful visions of a Cuba filled with beautiful women and tasty lamb.


Molina's Ranch Restaurant
4090 E 8th Ave
Hialeah, FL 33013
305-693-4440
www.molinasranchrestaurant.com

Nicaragua: Leaving Town with the FSLN

Pork tamal wrapped in banana leaf.

It's our last day here in Managua and my last chance to enjoy the tasty tamales they have at the breakfast buffet.  The only problem is that there are no tamales out this morning.  Crap.

During our morning breakfasts, I've discovered that the one item they do here brilliantly at the Hilton is the pork tamal.  It's perfect and I must have more.  Luckily, they have some in the back and, in a few minutes, out comes some fresh, hot tamales.  Add a house baked pretzel to the mix, some orange juice and all is well.


Last breakfast together

All week long, the staff here has been asking us if we would like coffee with our breakfasts. At a table full of international coffee judges, one would expect coffee to be a central component of our meal. Unfortunately, the coffee here is utterly atrocious and everyone in our group has uniformly declined a cup all week long.

To be fair, I did give the coffee a try during my first morning here in Managua and it was truly horrid. I can stomach quite a bit of coffees but this was too much. Unlike the watery brew I find across America, the coffee here was just - oh, I really can't describe how bad it was. Sludge, maybe?

Our crew is rapidly dwindling. Cleofas took off on the first flight out at 6am. Evidently, if he left on that flight and flew to Atlanta, he would be home in Tijuana by 4pm. If he took a Latin America based flight through Mexico City, he would be home sometime tomorrow. Rouki and Brent are on a flight to Guatemala City at 1pm and Alirio and myself will be on afternoon flights back to Colombia and the United States, respectively.

Don Roberto and Martha pick us up at the hotel around 1pm. Our flights aren't until 3:45pm so we've got some time to go touring around and visit Frank and Cela Rogers at El Coche Cafe.


Sandinista Protest

Even though it's been quiet and there have been no scheduled disturbances/riots all weekend over the mayoral election, now that it's Monday, the Sandinistas have taken to the streets once again in protest. Rumor has it that tomorrow it's going to get worse. This past week, I've heard a bit of disgruntlement over the election and even some people who sound as though civil war haven't been ruled out if the election process isn't vindicated. Coming from Suburban America where we let our government run rampant over us while pretending to still live in a free country, I'm kinda shocked. I can't imagine my fellow Americans rising and taking arms to restore a free society.


FSLN in the car

To be honest, I don't have a predisposition for the Sandinistas or the PLC (the opposing party). I'm just a visitor here. I don't know Nicaraguan politics nor do I care to get involved. But, as we pull up to a traffic light, there's a lady selling Sandinista flags amidst a demonstration and I think it's a great opportunity to score Nicaraguan memorabilia.

It's not perhaps a chunk of the Berlin Wall, but I wasn't there for the fall.

For a moment, I think about waving my little flag around but then think better of it. I can do all the waving of my flag at home, behind pulled curtains without concern for being labeled. Then again, it would probably be a good idea to hide the flag in my luggage to avoid questioning by authorities while passing through immigration.


Pollo Estrella Airport

Managua boasts Latin America's most modern airport. I certainly can see that it is quite modern. But it is rather small. There's not even a long driveway to access the terminal. Just drive on up, get out and go to your plane. Checking in is rather painless and soon I'm off in search of a quick bite to eat.

There's a food court in the airport and I give Pollo Estrella a try. The chicken is lightly seasoned and the skin is thin and crispy. It's pretty decent and the price is cheap (at least when you're spending dollars).


Barista Carmen Suarez makes me a cappuccino.

Once past security, I've got some shopping to do. My friends have been telling me that it's cheaper to buy Flor de Cana rum at the airport than at the local markets. I go for the 18 year old rum for $30 each.

Next is a stop at the Padron Cigar booth where they're selling 1964 Anniverary Padron Torpedo Maduro cigars for $300 a box. While I really enjoy this particular cigar, I don't know the price. So, after a quick call to my local tobacconist in Baltimore, I decide to pick up a box (the price at home is $416). A twenty percent savings? Not bad at all.


Cappuccino by

There's a coffeeshop by my gate and I notice that it's a Cafe Flores location and that two of the competitors work for the company. I go in and find one of them working the bar. Time for a cappuccino.

Readers of this blog know that I'm pretty cautious about trying coffee at coffee shops. This time, I throw caution to the wind - mainly because she knows me. The cappuccino is pleasantly tasty. A nice balance of sweet milk and dark chocolate-y espresso. I like it.

By now, I'm late for boarding and I'm off to Miami.



Cafe Las Flores at the Aeropuerto Internacional de Managua.

Nicaragua: Drinking Wine in Granada

Enrique considers the wine.

After our meal at Las Colinas del Sur, we headed into the center of Granada for a bit of a respite at the Hotel Granada's Wine Bar. A nice little joint we had all to ourselves and where we indulged ourselves with Rouki's favorite white wine.


Our group.


In the zocalo outside the wine bar.


It's her favorite wine.


Slow down.


We like to pose for photos.


Hotel Granada
Final Calle La Calzada
Granada, Nicaragua
505-552-5974
www.hotelgranadanicaragua.com

Nicaragua: Las Colinas del Sur

Entering Las Colinas.

Fellow judge, former contractor and current expat owner of El Coche Cafe, home of the new Nicaraguan Barista Champion Rebeca Ramos, has been raving all week about the bass at Las Colinas in Granada. Regardless of the outcome of the competition, Frank invited all of us for a meal on Sunday to try what he calls the best fish in all of Nicaragua. Needless to say, I'm curious.


Fried plantain chips and cheese.

Granada is a town roughly a half hour drive from downtown Managua. Once again, we're whizzing along a two-lane highway in Enrique's Honda CR-V down the road to oblivion. Whether or not we make it, it's nice to be ensconced in leather seats. In case we eat it, at least we will have been comfortable.

Located in what seems to be a remote part of Granada in the dark is evidently close to a lake where the fresh fish comes from. We arrive to find almost all of the El Coche Cafe staff seated at what must be a seventy foot table that runs nearly the entire length of the restaurant(there are four El Coche Cafe locations around Managua, as well as logistics support staff).


Our spread of food.

After going back to the hotel and bathing ourselves, we're a bit late to the party as the El Coche Cafe staff has finished their meal and is well on their way towards finishing untold cases of wine. Don't these people know they have to work tomorrow? All is well, I guess, since they're celebrating a hard fought win of the Nicaraguan Barista Championship.


Nothing like fried fish to make a man smile.

The newly crowned champion, Rebeca Ramos, is surrounded not only by her co-workers but also by her three children. From what I've been told, Rebeca is a tough barista. She's lived a tough life here in Managua and won't accept anything without questioning it and proving it first. Whether it's something about her life or merely milk steaming techniques, she wants to know why and she wants to understand it thoroughly. You can tell through those steely, firery eyes that there's a hunger for more, a thirst for knowledge without the egotism and pretense that you sometimes find in those who win championships.


A close-up of my fish.

The meal is set: fish. The best fish in Nicaragua. I'm excited. After a few minutes, the usual trinity of rice, fries and plantains arrives and the meal is set for take off. A platter of plantain chips and fried cheese arrives and, just a few moments after, the fish arrives.

It's a large fish and each of us receives one. Good Lord, this thing is huge. And ugly. The bass is deep fried and then slathered with a salsa of tomato and onions, served with a few slices of tomato and a lime.


Martha and her steak.

Frank had hyped this fish up so much that it had a lot to live up to. I was expecting fanfare and a dozen virgins. The skin was fried crisp, and that's a good thing, the problem was that the first couple of bites from the lower extremities of the fish had a decidedly fishy taste. Not good but I pressed on.

If I based my entire sample on those first few bites, it would have been a disaster. However, once you got into the meaty parts of the fish, it livened up quite a bit. Tender and moist with a very delicate flavor, the fish was now delicious. It was meaty and thick and just wonderful. The salsa and the lime brought a lightly salty and vinegary acidic twang to the meat and livened it up just right. I haven't had much fish in Nicaragua so I can't say if it was "The Best" or not, but it certainly was good.


Fried Plantain Chips, Cheese and Beans.

The unfortunate part were those first couple of bites that tasted fishy. And it was right after those bites that Frank asked me what I thought. I know I must have given him a lukewarm answer because I think he was disappointed that I didn't find it to be smashing right away. But it certainly improved tremendously as I progressed into the meat.


Rebeca, the champion, shares her thoughts.

It was fun spending time with our new friends from El Coche Cafe. They're a fun and passionate group of people who are interested in pushing the limits of quality coffee in a land where the standard is instant coffee. In fact, they're one of, if not the first company to offer Cup of Excellence coffees in a producing country to that country's citizens and coffee drinkers.


The judges enjoy a photo op with the champion.

We asked Rebeca, the new Nicaraguan Barista Champion, to come over and share her thoughts with us. She's relaxed, comfortable and fun to listen to - even though my Spanish isn't quite up to scratch. And, of course, we couldn't resist having a photo with the new champion.


This guy was so stoked, he had to flex.

It was right about then that Enrique broke away from our group, lured away from us by the ladies of El Coche Cafe. When we caught up with him, the women were enraptured by whatever he was telling them. He had an audience, and they all wanted his phone number. When one of them finally broke the silence, asked and received his number, they erupted in celebration. I started to wonder if they would work themselves into a frenzy and start tearing the clothes from his chest. Maybe I could sacrifice myself and let them have their way with me instead. Afterall, I want to protect my fellow judges from harm's way.


The women of El Coche Cafe enthralled with heartthrob judge, Enrique Ferrufino.


The girls get Enrique's phone number.

Some guys spend their entire lives trying to give their phone number away. How nice it must be to have women fawning over you.

I understand.



Brent and Rouki outside Las Colinas.


Las Colinas del Sur
Shell Palmira
Granada, Nicaragua
505-5523492

Nicaragua: Rebeca Ramos Campeon 2008-2009

Rebeca just moments after she won the Nicaragua Championship.

Just a little up-to-the-minute coffee news from Managua where Rebeca Ramos, of Managua's El Coche Cafe, took the 3rd annual Nicaraguan barista championship.

More later. First, we're off to Granada for what Frank assures us is some fantastic seafood and bass.