Posada Margherita – Tulum, Quintana Roo, Mexico

Late lunch, early dinner. The van drops us off, and we haven't run out of daylight. Posada Margherita's pasta has a degree of associated impetus, and I can't wait to walk off the two-hour ride. It's a hard half-mile down the single-lane beach road. You share the street with the cars, and you have to walk fast at 5 PM because it gets pretty scary without streetlights after dark.

The hotel that houses the restaurant is beautiful, but it's the last of the non-resorts. The Zona Hotelera is a lot longer than I expected, and the ritziness grows with every step.

The restaurant itself is pretty in its serenity. High-top tables in the back, and low-tops in the front, all with a perfect ocean view.

 

Couples frolic and children play in the sand as we sip our sugary, well-balanced cocktails. Mine is a light cucumber, and his is, as usual, bright, manly pink.

This Posada doesn't play. Only cash has value, and the prices are in USD. They know they're for tourists, and much respect for being up front about it. We balk at the prices at first, the Al Pomodoro Fresco starts at a whopping $16. For a small-medium bowl of fettuccine with tomato sauce, it better be the best damn pasta I’ve ever had. And Italy be damned, it is. The fettuccine is hand-rolled into thick, ropy vines of al dente, and the sauce sticks to every chewy cord. I can appreciate a good pomodoro, but I've never been a fan. This is that one that changes my mind. I may scoff at most restaurants that boast of all-organic fare, but this is where they're different. Their tomatoes are impossibly sweet, and they taste like rays of sunshine baked into a juicy orb. They taste of more red, more radiance, and more tomato than anything I’ve ever had.

Their portions are a bit modest, but their generous comp-tray of Focaccia will fill you up. The pickled cauliflower is hard and crumbly like the chunks of Parmesan on the side, and the bread has various delightful topping as well. The tomato is tart, the Italian herbs are a breath of fresh basil and oregano, and the plain is browned with sprinkles of cheese.

The Gamberi al Vino comes with only five shrimp, but these shrimp are on steroids. If there were a Mr. Universe contest for shrimp, at least two of these would win. These sea monsters make other jumbo shrimp look like krill. They’re easy to peel, and they’re as tender as a filet of fish. They bask in a sticky wine-based sauce, and the shells are soaked all the way through.

We love our meal, but we still skip dessert. We've had enough of this side of the beach. Because despite being only half a mile away, the face of this paradise changes and not for the better. Only a small, rockier beach separates our hotel from the southern strip of the Zona Hotelera, but all of the breathtaking beaches beyond are made private by arm-and-a-leg resorts and yoga retreats. We didn't know it at the time, but we broke a boundary and crossed a line when we ventured into that territory, and Posada Margherita showed us as much. The hotel is shabby-chic, advertising eco-friendly rooms. But when the cheapest room is $330, I don't know who you think you've fooled. It's all rich hipsters down here, and a thin tunic costs $400 in the next-door boutique. You do get what you pay for at Posada Margherita, but sometimes I'd rather just have a two-dollar taco.