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.
