Ko-Ox Han-nah - San Ignacio, Belize

I came to Belize looking for an adventure beyond my wildest dreams, and Actun Tunichil Muknal (ATM) was the cave for the job. Packed with sacrificial pottery and a human skeleton that required wading through rushing waters to reach made this particular cave a little more precarious. 

The spelunking starts with a swim into the mouth of the cave, and let's just say the S in my B.S. didn't stand for swimming. Then you squeeze your head into a decapitating gap between two rock formations, which I wouldn't have gotten through without a giant Iced Coffee. This brewed blend of coffee with honey and vanilla ice cream was the Daenerys Targaryen of Starbucks Frappuccino - the beans remained unburnt.

I loved the concept of the cave tour, just like I loved the concept of Ko-Ox-Han-Nah. Described by locals as one of the best experiences in San Ignacio, both places came highly recommended. Unfortunately, reality didn't live up to expectation. 

I had expected ATM to be a warm cavern of wonders, steamy as the Breakfast Burrito. Unfortunately, the burrito was about as interesting as the cave was warm - the runny refried beans with scrambled eggs and shredded cheese were a great combination but not exactly inspiring wonder.

ATM was indeed a cave of wonders, but we could have done without our loquacious guide . As much as we love a tour with a personal touch, there were more words pouring from his mouth than there was sauce dripping from the BBQ Lamb Ribs. The farm-fresh lamb was as authentic as the carafes that once held offerings to the gods, but the lamb was smothered by too much sauce, and our quiet time in the cave was smothered by a guide who repeated everything he said at least three times while we waited to die of hypothermia and old age.

I thought it wouldn't get any worse, but when we finally got to the Crystal Maiden, highlight of the cave, we were treated to a 20-minute soliloquy about his entire career, a speech as dry as the Rice and Beans with Stew Chicken. But we can always throw away rice and beans...

Lauded by locals and Lonely Planet alike, it was impossible not to be blown away by ATM. Given all the praise I heard about Ko-Ox-Han-Nah, it was impossible not to be disappointed. Ko-Ox-Han-Nah is Mayan for "let's go eat", and I for one will be ko-ox-han-nah-ing elsewhere.

Pop's - San Ignacio, Belize

It's hard to get out of bed knowing your day will be in ruins. Which is why we slept until noon and got the latest start we possibly could. Fortunately, we had breakfast at Pop's to prepare us.

It takes a lot of energy to hike up the nearly-vertical hill to Cahal Pech, and a big plate of Hash Browns was what the doctor ordered. Not worth writing a postcard home about, but they did give us our carb fix for all that climbing.

The carbs lasted for all of Cahal Pech, but we needed the Chaya Pockets as a pre-Xunantunich power-up. Tortillas tucked with sauteed kale-meets-spinach, scrambled eggs and cheese, these protein pockets have even more character than El Castillo. 

By the time you actually get to El Castillo after a one-mile trek, you'll inevitably look up and think that you just can't bring yourself to mount another set of high, uneven stairs. That's when the Fried Jacks give you some juice. Impossibly fluffy pockets of puffy fried pastry-dough with an almost mochi-esque texture, these are easily the least ruinous things in Belize. 

We packed a full day of ruins into an abbreviated afternoon despite a sluggish start - the brilliance of the Mayans was just too good to miss. And although nothing could have taken away our sense of awe as we sat on the stone throne at Cahal Pech and gazed up at the friezes of El Castillo, it was our breakfast at Pop's that prevented us from passing out before we got there.

Fuego - San Ignacio, Belize

After the lunch we had at Eva's we were as desperate for a quiet dinner as a girl in the bathroom line after three beers at the bar. Fortunately, the owner of our hotel understood our need to go a little gringa for the night and pointed us toward Fuego, a tasteful, modern place overlooking the well-lit center of town.

If nothing else, the cocktails relaxed us enough to at least laugh at some of the creepy catcalls we heard on the way there. I tried my first Michelado, which is basically a beer in sea water with a hint of spice. It was definitely well-made, but all it did was make me more thirsty. The Kiwi Lime Mint Mojito made for a pretty good thirst quencher, though. The sweet took away the salty and the sour washed the seawater down.

We knew our experience at Fuego would be different the minute we tasted the ripe Roasted Plantains. The plantains were soft and sweet, covered in a crazy creme fraiche-y sour cream.

The same sauce did well as a dip for the crunchy Cassava Fries, and we marveled at the fact that we had yet to get a single catcall and could actually hear ourselves speak.

The Pibil Tacos were a taste of simple street food minus the side of street trash we encountered that morning. Dripping with savory shredded-pork juice, topped with a sprinkle of red onions and cheese, these three tasty tacos were messy yet marvelous. 

Belizean meals are undoubtedly delicious, but all those carbs were making us covet the cows. And not just because no one catcalls a cow. Fresh greens are hard to come by, and we were begging for some bunny food. I didn't expect much from the Lamb and Apple Salad, but it ended up being one of the better salads I've eaten. The crusted-sugar glaze on the lamb cruised well with crisp fall apples and sweet red watermelon.

After all that, we were still hungry for an extra taste of Belize so we got the Fettuccini with Chicken and Tomato Cream Sauce to go. Even the microwave couldn't zap the flavor out of the tender dark meat and creamy sauce with a touch of tomato. The noodles were so al dente they even reheated that way. Not exactly a homage to authenticity, but we'd already had enough culture for the day.

To be fair, Fuego had it easy. It was impossible not to exceed our expectations after Eva's, but despite clearly catering to tourists, the food was still fairly fun, and I can't say anything less than fabulous about Fuego. 

Eva's - San Ignacio, Belize

We finally arrived in San Ignacio after a couple neck-cricking red-eye flights, and we were starving. We picked a promising place called Eva's, but the peaceful lunch we envisioned went south pretty quickly thanks to some local men who walked over after we sat down. I was really hoping we wouldn't start this trip on the wrong foot so I guess I was hoping those men didn't have feet. 

All that flying made us pretty thirsty so we started with some Fruit Juice. The pineapple was a sweet sip of the tropics, and the papaya was the nectar of the Mayan gods.

We had barely taken a sip of our juice before the men at the next table started trying to talk to us. "You're so pretty." "Are you sisters?" We ignored them and figured it was just part of the local flavor.  

Then we decided to try some local flavor we could actually enjoy. The Escabeche, a chicken stew loaded with onions, was a salt n' vinegar potato chip in liquid form, not a far cry from Chinese hot and sour soup, minus the hot. I loved the flavor of the soup, but the large amount of practically-raw onion wasn't all that edible.

Every meal in Central America should include Rice and Beans with Stew Chicken. The rice had beans mixed in and had a nice touch of flavor. The chicken had a decent stew on the outside, but the inside was about as tasteless as the leering men who kept up their commentary throughout our entire meal. "I want a Chinese girl. I like Chinese girls" was about as gross as the mayonnaise-soup potato salad. I usually love plantains, but the little slice on this plate was about as ripe as those men were mature.

So I finally made it to San Ignacio, and after Day #1, I can only hope a chant from my childhood gym class rings true for the rest of my stay; "First is the worst, second is the best..." Now that we've seen Belize's trash, I wouldn't mind seeing some of its treasure.

Brodard - Garden Grove

I'm always up for a good adventure, and eating my way through a new country is second to none. I've become pretty fluent in foodie, and I'll sample just about anything from just about any street. After all, no new country is complete without at least one healthy helping of food poisoning. If you don't drive the porcelain bus at least once in China or regurgitate at least one helping of street-cart Thailand rice, you need to stop ordering room service at the Ritz and get out a little more.

Now I've tasted so many things from so many places. At first I was struck by how different each item was, but I see how much of the world is the same. Look at the Mexican family values and see the embodiment of Confucian filial piety. Wash the marinara from the spaghetti and make Chinese beef noodle soup. Take the frijoles and arroz out of a Mexican chimichanga, and it's just an Asian egg roll.  

Sorry Mexico, but no one rolls like the Vietnamese. These Grilled Pork Spring Rolls have a soft Spam-y texture crumbling with sweet, grill-kissed flavor, freshened by lettuce, carrots, cucumber, and crunchies, all encased in a chewy wrap. The chef's special sauce is exceptional beyond belief, a hot, salty, savory gravy mix.

Everyone goes to Italy for the pasta, but I wonder if the Vietnamese are disappointed when they try it. I'll never say no to a peppy pesto or the popular pomodoro, but I don't know if anything comes close to a good bowl of Bun. The skinny strings of vermicelli mix with tender grilled pork, crispy, meaty eggrolls, and raw veggies julienne. And no bun is complete without a sassy sweet n' sour fish sauce mixed right in.

Somewhere between the spring rolls and the bun, you're bound to get a little thirsty. You have to ask for ice water in authentic Asian restaurants, and you often don't get it anyway. But who needs water when you have Green Tea Boba? Marie Antoinette said, "Let them eat cake". Marie Asian-nette said, "Let them drink boba".

Many cultures will clash, but they always find a way to combine. Vietnamese cuisine is not without a strong French influence, and I don't object one bit to the French colonization of desserts. Brodard boasts masterwork Macarons in 19 flavors, including a luscious lavender vanilla, sweet red velvet, classic green tea, and lychee and mango-passionfruit, a tart, fruity finish for a fantastic meal.

I write this post with my iPad in my lap, about to embark on a new adventure to fill my bucket list in Belize. Belize won't be on my bucket list for much longer now, and after a meal at Brodard, Vietnam has moved itself to the top. It'll be a while before I can afford an Asia-trip, but I'll definitely fly down the highway to Garden Grove a little more often than I thought.

Reading Terminal Market - Philadelphia

I hadn't been back to the northeast since they first handed me my MD, but I'd be lying if I said I didn't feel homesick for my 6 northeastern years. Even a two-day trip to Philly (where I've never lived) felt familiar, and a stroll through Reading Terminal Market (where I've never been) was a stroll down memory avenue.

Profi's Creperie 

 The Strawberry Banana Caramel Crepe was sweet and refreshing...

but it was the Apples and Caramel Crepe that brought me back. One bite and I was picking prized apples from the lofty branches of a fruitful tree. The crepe didn't taste so different from all those apple cookies we baked. 

Sometimes we pour too much caramel over our memories, and it tends to over-sweeten them. I'm often nostalgic for the north, but the moment I stepped out of the airport, the cold hit me like the shock of a thousand needles, biting and stinging every inch of exposed flesh. That 50-degree weather was a painful reminder of how much cold weather turns me into a ho-hum homebody.

I though it would be easier to brave the cold when everything is close together, but it turns out I'm much more willing to take the elevator to my car. There may be ten different restaurants right outside my building, but there was no way I was facing the instant frostbite. Plus it's just not acceptable to be unable to dine outdoors in October. 

Kamal's Middle Eastern 

The Lamb Shwarma Plate is the embodiment of a city street - so many things squeezed into a tiny space. Mouth-watering strips of lamb sit atop a bed of rice, and pitas get dipped into a hummus with a bitter aftertaste. The forgettable salad and standard tabbouleh cool the combo down. So many things on the same plate, like so many restaurants on a not-so-stellar street. Mary may have wanted a little lamb, but this is too little lamb for ten dollars.

Golden Bowl

Times moves slower on the west coast. The Veggie Fried Rice may have been cooked up in a New York minute, but just like you can get run over by busy bankers if you walk too slowly through Midtown, you can get pretty buried by Golden Bowl grease if you choose your Chinese too quickly.

The Famous 4th Street Cookie Company 

There are two sides of every country, and there are two sides of every city. I'm slowly starting to think that west coast is the best coast, but I still can't quite commit. The west side is a softer embrace. But I get the best of both sides with a tasty Black & White Cookie. The white half is sweet and creamy, but the black half has more of a chocolatey bite. But maybe it isn't so much about picking a side. Maybe it's more about just enjoying every bite.