Philosophizing at Pie Whole – St. Thomas

Things I learned about St. Thomas. Dictated by my pie whole, atrociously applied to theirs.

1)      Happy hours are awesome, but sometimes it’s worth paying a little more for a drink you want. We got pretty caught up in three-dollar margaritas and two-dollar rum punch, but a good beer is always worth a splurge. You’d buy a beer for a Belgian blond at the bar but why bother when you can buy a Belgian blond? Try the Urthel Saisonniere. It has all the sweetness of a Weiss with all the attitude of an IPA.

2)      When your life is sweet, you become just a little sweeter to match. Paradise is punctuated by pleasant people, and is seems that the islanders are often willing to do just a little more for you. That’s about the only thing sweeter than Samuel Smith’s Chocolate Stout.

3)      Most of the food on St. Thomas is imported so it’s priced accordingly. Try not to let that Flemish sour your culinary experience. Get creative with cooking, find cheap fun-food in places like Taco Hell, or just accept that paradise has a price. When life gives you expensive lemons, make more expensive lemonade less often. And when your barrel gives you bacteria, brew a sour beer like Monk’s Café. It may even taste a little like lemonade.

4)      After you’ve had enough Belgian beers here or happy hour drinks elsewhere, your google searches becoming a little more interesting. One rather memorable happy hour taught me that daggering is a form of dance. A form of dance that the Jamaican government strives to ban due to the increasing numbers of injury to important male parts. Youtube at your own risk and not in the presence of children, parents, and priests.

5)      We tend to take the simple things in life for granted. St. Thomas may lack some of our fancier mainland desires, but sometimes all you want is a simple slice of crusty Garlic Bread with baked-in garlic and butter. And sometimes all you need is to see that a beautiful beach is a barely ten-minute walk from your front door.

6)      The food isn’t all that great. As you’ve often heard me complain, the local cuisine doesn’t really exist, and finding produce for a price that doesn’t purge your bank account is often just not possible. If you’re missing a freshness and variety, you’ll find that Veg-Head pizza, with its various fresh veggies atop a crispy, just-tossed crust, is a Pie Whole new world.

7)      This move SLOWLY in St. Thomas. To calculate island time take either the time they tell you it takes or what you believe to be a reasonable amount of time to complete the task at hand and multiply by five. Multiply by ten if you’re from New York. For example, the task of making a simple 4-cheese Cheese Lover Pizza should take 30 minutes max in my opinion so when it only took an hour, I praised the chef for his efficiency.

8)      Always wear sunscreen. Even under the supposedly subdued 4 PM sunshine, you run the risk of resembling your Holy Trinity Pizza. Reapply sunscreen frequently during the day or you’ll bear an uncanny resemblance to the exposed fresh tomato sauce, and if you wear sunglasses for too long, you’ll have white circles around your eyes like the fresh mozzarella that dots this pizza. If you wear a bikini in the same pretty green as the flavor-boosting basil leaves, you can spend your Halloween dressed like a Pie Whole pizza.

I think the most important lesson I’ve learned about St. Thomas is that despite listening to complaints that the island is just too small, you’ll soon see that this supportive community encircles you even better than this flaky, deep-dish crust of the Baked Spinach and Artichoke Dip. And the only thing that warms you from the inside-out faster than a piping hot pizza is how quickly and easily someone will take you in. Sometimes a hidden jalapeno will give you an unexpected burn, but overall this island has a heritage richer than the pound of cream in this dip.

Balance at Barefoot Buddha – St. Thomas

The hippies of St. Thomas have built a home with their bare hands, and Barefoot Buddha is the name they chose for this place where they can bare their feet. Enter and be calmed by the walls of yoga-studio orange. Feel freed as you walk toward the register while the framed multitudes of meditators bid you Namaste.

I usually just sip water, but I couldn’t resist the sound of a Lemon Passion Italian Soda. I didn’t end up loving this not-quite-lemony infusion with its strong herbal undertones, but that’s more because I was looking for a sugar-filled instant-cavity. Plus it was a little flat.

Barefoot Buddha already looks like the inside of my neighborhood yoga studio, but it’s the sandwiches that really make me feel like I’m back on the mat. The Veg Out Wrap (on the right) has all the delicate, airy balance of a perfect dancer pose, an impressive feat with little room for error. The tangy sun-dried tomato and creamy avocado are the major muscles, and the sprouts and greens add all the air of a deep yoga breath. Unfortunately, the sharp red onion nestled amongst crisp greens, red pepper, and sweet orange carrots will make sure that that breath will knock even the most dedicated of dancers out of their pose. I can’t recall everything in the wrap on the left of this photo, but it was an assembly of some of the best falafel I’ve ever had, a delectable daily special.

The Sweet Potato Wrap is a little more laid back, the warrior poses to the Veg Out’s dancer. Warrior one and warrior two make a calibrating warm-up, where you shift your hips and find your balance on every new day. When done right, they’re as pretty as the orange and green of mashed sweet potato and stacks of spinach. It take far less precision to hold this basic balance, but just when you start to get comfortable, the savory contrast of a layer of hummus with a creamy chevre can sometimes shake things up.

In yoga you take a lot of very varied muscles and make them work together toward a common goal. And when you assemble each thing just right you after weeks and months, something suddenly clicks. Grainy hummus balances creamy goat cheese, and a soft tomato holds off the crisp, fresh spinach in this Hummus & Rosemary Goat Cheese Panini. And like a yoga pose, a hair too much or a hair too little of any element will that carefully constructed pose come tumbling down.

At Barefoot Buddha, the sandwiches are superb and the wraps will wow you. So when you grow tired of the chicken and hot sauce routine of the island, ensconce yourself in a form of nirvana made possible only by food. Barefoot Buddha may look like a crunchy-granola zen-den, but if you sit down and soak it in just a little more, you’ll see that it can become anybody’s haven, a place where anarchists come to analyze, philosophers come to roost, and rabbles come of rouse.

Texas Pit – St. Thomas

I got pretty skeptical on my daily drive past a chain of metallic trailers. Barbecue may have humble origins, but eating anything that comes out of a tin-can diner has to be the pits. And it was the pits. The pits of a Texas smokehouse grill.

I didn’t exactly have high hopes for this place, but I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised that a restaurant shaped like a giant sausage would be a casing for delicious meat. I also found 15 dollars a plate to be a bit pricey, but I found a way around that, so let me drawl you some directions.

They tell you that the six-dollar special cut is a smaller portion of brisket or pork, but everything is big in Texas. This “smaller” portion is plenty big for one and more than enough for me. (That’s what she said). The Brisket is simultaneously smoky but tender, salt and peppered to perfection, with a smokiness that gives the beef a fuller flavor. It’s tender all the way through, and the spicy barbecue sauce makes some of the best brisket I’ve ever had even better.

The Chicken is a seven-dollar steal, and half a bird in the hand (with a side of rice) is well worth two in a bush. It’s hard to know whether it’s the barbecue flavor or the encircling sauce that penetrates through all that meat, but when you remember that the meat is encircled by a trailer, you remember not to think too much. The side of Mac n’ Cheese costs extra so you may need to pass on the three-dollar Taco Hell upgrade. I say spend that money to chase a well-Krafted dream, especially when that dream is infused with barbecue sauce.

I really didn’t expect much from Texas Pit, but that just goes to show that you shouldn’t judge a book by its cover and you shouldn’t judge a barbecue by its trailer. If nothing else, come to Texas Pit just for the experience of eating barbecue off the back of your car in a parking lot. You may never find a Texas-sized plate of fun like this again, and if you can find a good football game, you’ll have yourselves a tailgate.

Not so Bad at Northside Bistro – St. Thomas

Whomever chose Northside Bistro’s location must have been a hair stylist because the harrowing hairpin turns on the way to this Hull Bay haven would have deterred any other normal person. The winding hilltop strip proves to be a grueling vehicular hike, and our four-cylinder Corolla never stood a chance with the AC on. Good thing no one in the car had hot flashes. My one regret is that we did those hairpins in the dark. The lush green view from our screened-in terrace table must be amazing in the light.

The thing that made these harrowing hairpins somewhat gratifying was the Northside Bistro boasts the island’s only brewery. I did love trying their (right to left) Red Ale, Newcastle-esque Nut Brown, and chocolately Pacific Stout, but I can hardly act impressed that they’re the only…anything on an island this small.

We started with the Bruschetta when our ears perked up at blueberries and brie. Unfortunately, these little slices of toast were haphazardly topped with sloppy slices of varying sizes and a little drizzle of blueberry. This is the kind of thing I slap together at home within minutes, and although it tasted fine, it tasted more like two good things thrown together with none of the togetherness of a real bruschetta.

The Duck Breast was similarly done. The breast was seared separately from sauce and placed onto a plate of glaze rather than coming glazed, but the combination was still quite good so I can almost say no harm, no fowl. The duck itself was clearly a prime cut…that had been frozen and thawed. The slightly gamey, dark-meat duck was still delicious, the port wine demi-glaze had a nice raspberry tint to it, and the crispy skin was seared to perfection. Unfortunately, the texture of the duck itself was a bit rubbery, like the inside of a chicken nugget, and the inside was a slightly unappetizing dark gray.

Weaker duck aside, I do love that I get to choose my two sides. My risotto was a little too creamy for risotto, but the blend of fresh tomato and basil mingling with mozzarella and parmesan made my mind say no and my mouth say yes. My vegetable medley (not pictured) of julienned zucchini and summer squash was perfectly cooked but still crisp. This was probably my favorite side. Ever.

The Jerk Tofu made it a little more sweet n’ sour than I like, but I can’t complain about the firm, a little bit chewy-like-jerky texture, with a flavor that goes all the way through. I’d have to be jerk to hate that.

If an Indian and a Thai had a child, that child would taste like the sweet-laced-with-curry-powder Curry Tofu. Plus mixed children are notoriously attractive so I guess that explains why this sauce was so tasty.

Sometimes you try to create a home away from home with all the comfort of steak from a grill. Unfortunately, this mealy, barely mediocre NY Strip was quite the disappointment. A touch of overcooking didn’t help.

The Alfredo Pasta was loaded with the primavera and tossed in a creamy-but-not-too-creamy sauce. There was more sauce than I liked, but the fettuccine was al dente, and overall this dish was better than any pasta I could have cooked up at home.

It is with a twinge of guilt that I send Northside’s rating south. The quality and freshness of their food isn’t what I’m used to but seems pretty typical for the island. But after recently writing a post about what great foods the islands have, I realized how spoiled I’ve become. We come from the US, a country that never has to want. A country in which to not have something is a rare anomaly, to run out is unacceptable, and the words “out of season” mean nothing more than a few extra dollars tacked onto the price. I stand by with the review I gave Northside, but I encourage you to see the lesson in it too. Learn to cook your in-season food, and more importantly, learn to love what you already have.

Foods of the Islands – St. Thomas, St. John, Jost Van Dyke

After some slightly cynical reviews coupled with a lot of culinary skepticism, I’ve decided to make a counter argument but against myself. Instead of focusing on copious quantities of what these islands lack, let’s switch gears to talk about what they do not lack. Then again, if I actually wrote about what they lacked, you’d never read it. No one has time for a rant that long.

The Chicken: Food walks fearlessly in the midst of those who eat it on these islands, and it’s only on these islands that I’m never afraid to have the chicken. 

Whether it’s Buffalo Wings at any St. Thomas dive, Pineapple Jerk Wings (pictured here) from St. John’s Spyglass, or just plain Fried Chicken Wings from Gertrude's Beach Bar on Jost Van Dyke, the chicken is always fresh and makes for a marvelous meal.

The Hot Sauce:  When the local food selection is more barren than a desert, you need a good sauce to drown it in. While there may not be much variety in the way of food, the variety of locally bottled mouth burners may outnumber the stars in a clear Caribbean sky. Blind Betty is sweet with a small kick, and Miss Anna is sweet as can be before your tastebuds start to convulse.

Calypso is a sweet burn, delightful on chicken and veggies. Uncle Jerome gives a little flavor and enough burn in a drop to make you scream “uncle”. The generic yellow West Indian Hot Sauce found in many a café or bar burns like a whole new hell.

Coconuts: A single large mango will cost you five at the food fair and two barely buys an apple, but four will buy a coconut and three buys the rum for some alcoholic electrolytes. Our Market Smoothies in St. John may look like a run-down shack, but the smoothies are legit, with nothing but real fruit and ice. The coconuts are chilled and cut open in front of your wide tourist eyes, and mine was huge with sweet milk inside. Ask them to cut it open when you’ve sipped your last and use the hard shell to dig out the soft flesh. Afraid that you’ll miss out on the finer St. John sights by spending too much time sipping smoothies in this shack? Not gonna happen. A few minutes of watching their obnoxious video of numerous inebriated guests screaming superficial praises will send you running out the non-existent door in no time.

The Painkiller: This dark rum concoction was invented on Jost Van Dyke, and Soggy Dollar is supposed to make them best. A combination as white as the sandy beach with a topping of nutmeg, this liquid courage will cure anything, from hangover to sunburn to a bad day at the beach. Though let’s face it, no day at the beach is a bad day.

Roti: When I pictured veggie roti, I pictured a pulpy-soft, oversteamed disaster. Not true in a veggie roti, an Indian-bread-married-Caribbean-tofu combination. The Veggie Roti at Gertrude’s was fantastic.

Tofu: Tofu is one of few foods that tastes better processed. Actually, it doesn’t exist unless it’s processed. So no surprise that you can find fabulous Tofu Tacos at places like Taqueria and Spyglass on St. John. But the tofu doesn’t stop there. It permeates the food scene in the form of BBQ to curry to jerk, and also appears in many a vegan lunch.