I'm not an alcoholic, and The Nile isn't just a river in Egypt. But I didn't go to Egypt, I went to Martha's Kitchen, where danger exists in liquid form.
You can't have just one of these tropics-in-a-glass with fresh-squeezed pineapple juice and coconut rum, appropriately named the Panty Ripper.
Rum Punch sounded like a safer bet, but all those sweet juices mask the alcohol content in this gigantic fishbowl of a glass. For those who want to keep their panties on, allow me to recommend the fresh-squeeezed Lime Juice.
When you're done with panty-ripping, you can move on to the meat. But you don't need alcohol to appreciate the size of those Beef Kabobs with grilled pineapple.
Just try not to make any decisions you'll regret. The Garnaches aren't the most exciting of options, but no one ever regretted waking up next to fried tortillas with refried beans, onion, cabbage, and cheese.
If you want something to get excited about, go for the Tacos Pibil. Braised pork drips juice into a thick, out-of-this-world, homemade corn tortilla. I've always been by-the-rules when sober, but I just might try to smuggle some tortillas home.
As if a drink called the Panty Ripper wasn't scandalous enough, the Chaya Tamales made me go off the deep end, eliciting a reaction not suitable for...anyone. The Jon-Snow-bastard-child of spinach and kale set in the softest cornmeal, you know nothing...until you've tried the chaya.
In case you haven't had enough chaya, the Chaya Dinner is a simple sautee with onion, pepper, and mozzarella cheese. Don't bother if you already tried the tamales.
Only four days in San Ignacio, and three of them were spent eating dinner at Martha's. I don't know what kind of crack they put in that Panty Ripper, but there's no denying I'm hooked.
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