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5 of the Best Caribbean Beach Bars

My top five favorite Caribbean beach bars and restaurants are personal. They’re based on my memories of food, wine, people, and views. My top five list might change over time, but these are the Caribbean beach bars and beach clubs that keep my travel memories alive and kicking.

My Top Five Caribbean Beach Bars

When assessing the best beach bars, suffice it to say that I have a few baseline requirements. A vibe that naturally pairs with the island’s culture is one. Combining tourists and locals adds authenticity and credibility, and festive air helps. The food (if served) is at a culinary level that matches the establishment’s look and atmosphere. And lastly, a USP (Unique Selling Point) that makes me yearn to go back months after the holiday has ended.

Except for Anegada, I’ve been fortunate enough to visit the following Caribbean beach clubs and bars more than once. That qualifies me as an expert in my own experiences, that is. Next time you find yourself in the Caribbean (and let’s all agree that we hope that time is soon), let me know if you concur. Or better yet, tell me about your favorite Caribbean bars and restaurants.

Click Here For My Free Caribbean Beach Bar Hot Sheet

Best Caribbean Beach bars: 5 / Basil’s Bar, Mustique

Island Vibe: Celebrity Secret Hideaway

Basil’s is a Caribbean beach bar and restaurant leisurely perched on the edge of Britannia Bay in Mustique. It attempts to camouflage the island’s undercover glamour. Lush and verdant, Mustique has only two hotels and two restaurants. Its beauty is hiding in plain sight among the breezy Windward Islands.

Why I like Basil’s: Chill, open-air, Basil’s woos villa owners, villa renters, reclusive celebrities, and yachties alike, with a combination of casual food (like perfectly seasoned grilled lobsters), a low-key atmosphere, and spectacular sea views.

I’ll admit, though, that I have little memory of the food because the setting is the star, day, and night. Mega-yachts and sublime sailboats were anchored in the distance, which created another layer to this Caribbean bar’s swoon-worthy backdrop.

USP: I like to settle into the indoor/outdoor living spaces and nooks or park myself on one of the wooden stools overlooking the tranquil Caribbean Sea.

Worth mentioning: Live Music/DJ Nights/Basil’s Boutique/Accessible by car or boat

Best Caribbean Beach bars: 4 / Catherine’s Café, Antigua

Island Vibe: Casual European Beach

To say Catherine’s is a Caribbean beach club that is comfortable in her own skin is an understatement. Open-air, louver-shuttered, sea-breezy Catherine’s Café on the island of Antigua lazes under warm, butter-yellow Veuve Cliquot umbrellas.

Why I like Catherine’s: Catherine’s barefoot casual Caribbean beach bar feels like Europe. I see naked toddlers running amok with their half-naked mums chasing them. It boasts a French-inspired menu and a well-thought-out wine list.

I can’t forget our effervescent bartender, Damien, who kept us in good spirits. Neem trees enshroud the hidden location. It practically begs one to spend an afternoon there—which is exactly what we did.

USP: The cozy and intimate beach area adjacent to the bar offers lovely bay views in a secluded setting.

Worth mentioning: Live Music/Cheese Course/G+T Menu/Bakery/Boutique/Accessible by car or boat

Best Caribbean Beach bars: 3 / The Rum Bar, Cooper Island

Island Vibe: Desert-Island Barefoot Beach Shack

Our sailboat grabbed one of the last available moorings in Manchioneel Bay, off the shores of Cooper Island. I felt like a survivor about to crawl onto a deserted beach. The people lazing on the wooden decks of the Rum Bar were scrappy and barefooted, semi-drunk, and happily marooned. It was as if we had found a hidden outpost, a tiny island jewel box, where a lucky few were escaping the outside world. Idyllic.

Why I like The Rum Bar: Cooper Island has an authenticity that is somewhat unique to the British Virgin Islands, which are often heavy with tourists and can sometimes feel manufactured.

A clear sign that the Rum Bar, part of the modest Cooper Island Beach Club, is all it’s cracked up to be was that we noticed yacht crews hanging at the bar—the real-life version of ‘Below Deck.’ If the Rum Bar was where they chose to spend their limited free time, we knew we were on to something good. It‘s definitely a Caribbean beach bar worth exploring.

USP: The remote and rickety beach shack-chic setting that, true to its name, houses 280 different rums.

Worth mentioning: Bakery/Barista/Accessible only by boat/Arrive early to get one of the 30 coveted moorings

Click Here For My Free Caribbean Beach Bar Hot Sheet

Best Caribbean Beach bars: 2 / Anegada, Cow Wreck Beach Bar

Island Vibe: Utterly Remote Castaway

Seventeen nautical miles from Virgin Gorda sits the pancake flat, remote island of Anegada. The name Anegada means ‘drowned island.’ At only 28 feet tall at its highest elevation, it could not feel farther away from civilization. That’s exactly what makes this Caribbean beach bar and restaurant so enchanting.

Why do they call it Cow Wreck Beach, I wondered? In 1929, a 380-foot-long steel freighter called The Rocus was heading from Trinidad to Baltimore. The Rocus’s cargo was filled with cow bones that would later be ground into fertilizer.

Unfortunately, The Rocus made an unexpected and devastatingly final stop when she collided with Anegada’s treacherous Horseshoe Reef. Since the wreck, the ocean floor has remained eerily scattered with cow bones. As for the freighter, it’s still lodged on its starboard side just beneath the water’s surface. It hasn’t budged an inch since 1929.

Why I like Cow Wreck: There are thousands of sea urchin shells in every size and all the varying degrees of white that the sun can bleach. The sea is a color that one would immediately assume is an Instagram filter. The open-air beach bar has peeling paint, plastic chairs, and dive-y, no-frills decor.

USP: A Caribbean beach bar that is this challenging to get to only adds to its allure.

Worth mentioning: Wreck Punch/Lobster/Bar games/Accessible only by boat or ferry

Best Caribbean Beach bars: 1 / St. Barths, Nikki Beach

Island Vibe: Over-the-top beach club party

There’s nowhere else in the Caribbean quite like St. Barths. Authentic French through and through, the words St. Barths conjure up Lifestyles of the Rich and Famous glamour. Nikki Beach is ideally situated to soak up the island’s eternally sun-filled vibes.

Imagine the days when Greta Garbo and other Hollywood stars walked these very shores. Now imagine Beyonce and Jay-Z at the table beside you. Nikki Beach gradually turns up the volume throughout their two Sunday seatings. You will never want the party to end.

Why I like Nikki Beach: Dance on the tables with wild abandon whether you are 8, 18, or 88. The upbeat party on the beach is for everyone. Order one of the famous sushi boats to go along with your 2016 Chassagne-Montrachet. Go wild and pair vintage Dom Perignon with an ounce or two of caviar. The sky is the limit here in every way. No one goes home hungry or thirsty without a beachy glow after a day at Nikki Beach.

USP: Glam, glam, and more glam. Part Caribbean beach club and part beach bar, it offers killer views of St. Jean’s Bay and incredible people-watching for hours on end.

Worth mentioning: Reservations are a must/Live DJ/Special occasion splurge

Dream job: If becoming a bartender abroad is your life goal, look no further than JOOBLE for inspiration.

Click Here For My Free Caribbean Beach Bar Hot Sheet

(Please note a few affiliate links above for which I may receive a small referral fee. But rest assured, I only highlight products I fully stand behind.)

February 6, 2024
Hiša Franko is the 21st best restaurant in the world

Hiša Franko is #21 on San Pellegrino’s ‘World’s 50 Best Restaurants’ list. Hiša Franko’s chef is ranked #7 on the ‘Best Chef Awards’ list and has two coveted Michelin stars. Detect a pattern? Hiša Franko is climbing culinary ladders at breakneck speed.

Chef Roš has everything to do with it.

Honorable Mention: Culinary Travel

Hiša Franko

Perhaps you envision the world’s 21st-best restaurant in a cosmopolitan city like New York, with an inaudible hum coming from behind an unmarked door on West 9th Street. Or, in a posh Mayfair hotel, where London suit and ties gather to discuss private equity amid a buzz of banking activity. Where numbers and figures float around the room like musical notes.

Maybe you assume Chef Roš graduated with honors from the Culinary Institute of America or L’Ecole. Or, that Roš was taught to cook by a nurturing grandmother and spent hours in the kitchen recreating family recipes, eventually trading a stained apron for crisp chef’s whites.

You’d be wrong on all fronts.

Hiša Franko’s Lucky #21

The 21st best restaurant in the world, Hiša Franko, is not in a sleepless city or a swanky hotel. It isn’t on a quaint American main street or hidden in a European city’s back alley. It’s not anywhere you’d ever imagine. Unless you imagine it’s on a rural, tree-lined road in Slovenia.

Then, you’d be right.

You’d also be off-base about Chef Roš, who studied international science and was destined to become a diplomat. Or that Chef Roš played competitive sports and rarely stepped foot in a kitchen other than to eat.

Would you believe that Chef Roš entered Hiša Franko’s kitchen and had to start from scratch? Chef Roš, who is now a culinary powerhouse, has earned two Michelin stars and is a force to be reckoned with. Don’t believe me?

Just ask her husband.

Have passport, will travel

I travel for food the way others travel for a music festival, Broadway show, or museum exhibit. An extraordinary dining experience invigorates my senses in the same ways. A multi-dimensional artistic endeavor in its own right. When done well, for instance, a meal can be an Oscar-winning performance.

This summer, I drove four hours for lunch. I crossed an international border and through multiple microclimates with my passport and rapid antigen test results in tow. Then, I drove four hours back.

Was it worth it?

Chef’s Table, Hiša Franko

It’s June 2016. My husband and I are watching one of our favorite guilty pleasures, the culinary docu-series Chef’s Table. Chef’s Table is to food what the BBC’s Planet Earth is to nature (minus David Attenborough’s distinguished narration).

The series documents chefs in far-flung destinations and overlays interviews with dramatic music to reel the viewer in. I’m that fish who gets hooked every time.

Who’s the Chef?

Tonight’s episode features Chef Ana Roš, a chef I’d never heard of. This is exactly the point of the show—to introduce cutting-edge culinary talent to food-obsessed people like me.

Chef’s Table serves up unusual food adventures in destinations around the world. It delivers them to our living rooms to be enjoyed alongside our UberEats and DoorDash orders.

Food is presented much like a docent introduces a Manet at the Met. A well-thought-out but concise narration of the artist and painting. Using all the right descriptors to whet the appetite, create intrigue, and allow for personal interpretation.

My husband lights a fire, and we settle in. Ready to travel to Hiša Franko from the comfort of our well-worn leather couch? Beside us, the dogs are snoring. ‘Where are we going tonight?’ I wonder as I pull a cozy Sferra blanket over my legs.

Slovenia.

Slovenia?

Do they mean Slovakia? Sardinia? Or, Armenia? Where is Slovenia? We are less than two minutes into the show. I press pause to find an Atlas. My husband sighs.

‘Slovenia is in Eastern Europe, above Croatia, below Austria. Next to Italy and Hungary’, I proudly relay to Daniel. ‘Some might say north, south, east, and west,’ he replies with undiluted sarcasm. I ignore him. Geography lesson complete. I press play.

The episode chronicles Ana’s unlikely journey from a woman destined to become a diplomat in Brussels, who instead inherits a local inn and restaurant. With no culinary training, she turns it into one of the best restaurants in the world and inadvertently puts Slovenia on the culinary map.

Franko’s house

Ana Roš and Valter Kramar took over his family’s inn and restaurant, located deep in Slovenia’s Soča Valley, in 2000. It had been owned by the Kramars since 1970. Franko is Valter’s father. Hiša means house. Franko’s House.

The inn and restaurant are not only Ana and Valter’s business; they are also their family home. With Ana in the kitchen as the chef, Valter was able to realize his lifelong dream of creating a cheese and wine cellar.

Valter ages his ‘Tolminic’ cheese for years and stocks his cellar with natural Slovenian vintages. His appreciation for crazy and unusual wines adds yet another dimension to the dining experience at Hiša Franko. Ana and Valter are as naturally paired as their food and wine.

Find out about Hisa Franko’s availability and even more glowing reviews here!

Serendipity

Years after watching Hiša Franko’s episode of Chef’s Table, we plan a family trip to Istria, Croatia. My trusted atlas is again put to good use. I quiz Daniel, ‘Did you know that the Istrian peninsula borders Slovenia?’ A slightly raised eyebrow leads me to believe I just may have sparked an idea.

Serendipitously, we discover our Istrian villa is within driving distance of Hiša Franko. That is if you consider 4 hours driving distance. I hop on the computer and make a reservation.

With far fewer destination diners to compete with, I secured a reservation for our date. But truth be told, Slovenia isn’t simple to get to even when there isn’t a worldwide pandemic. And, even if you are already in the country below it. Correction, south of it.

I didn’t factor in the border crossing. Or the need for a 48-hour advance negative COVID test to cross it. More importantly, there is the minor issue of transportation. Details to be figured out at later date (aka procrastination).

What kind of foodie are you?

There are two kinds of foodies. Those who would drive 4 hours for lunch, and everyone else. If the thought of driving 300 miles round-trip for a meal seems reasonable to you, then you are my people.

At 8am, we leave our villa. Our minivan driver is a Croatian woman named Marta. She tells us about a lesser-known border crossing into Slovakia, I mean, Slovenia. This is August in Europe, and border traffic is a killer. Passport in hand, the excursion feels like a covert mission.

En route to Hiša Franko, we pass hamlets puddled at the base of towering mountains. It’s a dreary morning, and fog hangs low in the air, cutting the mountains in half. This only adds to the mystique of the journey. However, it creates drama, especially as we drive through dense forests filled with Croatia’s famous truffles. My excitement is as palpable as the earthy, musky scent in the air.

Border patrol

At 915am, we pull up to a sleepy border patrol crossing cut into the hills. Why do I feel like I’m doing something illegal? This is just lunch, after all, not the finalé of The Sound of Music.

Menacing clouds press up against the Slovenia landscape in the distance. My hand shaking slightly, I hold up my phone to show the border police photographic evidence of our negative test results. I accidentally swipe left, and the faces of my nieces fill the screen. Whoops.

The policeman grunts a guttural, ‘cute’ at their insta-worthy faces before I quickly swipe back to the results. The rain starts to gain momentum. He waves us through. We are in Slovenia. 3 hours to go.

Colors of Slovenia

The sun cuts in and out, revealing towering mountains with sheer rock face walls. Thick clouds that pool heavily in the valleys are just beginning to lift. The scene auto-fills with gem-like tones. Lapis lazuli, malachite, and topaz eke through.

In the final stretch to Hiša Franko, we notice golden flax-rolled hay bales, an emerald green river (no doubt filled with trout), and lush trees. The colors, after hours of heavy rain, are unreal.

At Hiša Franko, It’s all in the details

It’s 1145am. When we arrive at Hiša Franko, the sky is fully transformed. The ominous weather has moved on. Or, maybe it never reached this magical enclave in the Soča Valley. It hardly matters now. The blue sky is a gift after hours of murky fog and narrow, winding roads.

The Hiša Franko farmhouse is located just beyond the small settlement of Kobarid, (est. population: 1060, as of 2016). Its exterior echoes Benjamin Moore’s ‘Dark Salmon’ paint chip.

Flowers the colors of ripe red fruits spill out from tall shuttered windows. Originally built in the 1860s, it’s a small peach of a building set in front of a big apple-green mountain.

The common spaces at the inn are designed by someone with a true eye for art and photography. I intend to seek that person out, but can’t help thinking it’s none other than Ana and Valter. That their eye for food and wine naturally extends to every other type of design comes as no surprise.

Inside Hiša Franko’s dining room, the warm hues continue. Tomato red walls act as a rich contrast to white linen. A long, central, wooden table is the hub for wine bottles, glasses, and barware. Valter’s domain.

Abstract art is framed along the main wall of the intimate space. It’s aligned at the baseline, which is atypical. As is the decanter, which spirals upwards like a snake being charmed. I am in love with the decanter. I hope my husband reads this before Christmas.

Hovering disk-shaped light fixtures lower the ceiling and add even more intimacy. It’s subtle details like these that make me appreciate all that has gone into making Ana’s restaurant such a treasured place.

23 and me

How does one prepare for a 23-course lunch? With healthy trepidation and an empty stomach. We are no strangers to chef-led dining experiences, as it’s the surprises that make them all the more worthwhile.

We are a group of six, including my 17-year-old daughter. Hiša Franko is one of her first true multi-course, experimental culinary adventures. I am silently proud when she opts to try everything despite any preconceived notions of what is being served.

This is no simple undertaking, as many ingredients are unlike anything we have seen, eaten, or even heard of before.

I’m prepared for the variety of locally inspired ingredients. The hearty foods that have kept Slovenians fed for generations: notably, lamb, pork, and trout. I’m less prepared to see bear paw on the menu. Immediately, I assumed that bear paw is the name of a wild mushroom, like Lion’s Mane or Hen of the Woods.

Leave it to my curious daughter to point to the menu and ask, “Is this really bear paw?’. ‘Indeed it is!’ comes the unexpected reply.

Our server goes on to explain that a certain number of brown bears are culled each year due to the increase in population and the risks they pose to local villagers.

Was I ready to try it? Ummmm, sort of?

The meat of the bear paw is supposedly very tender, on par with slow-cooked beef. Our bear paw is minced and nestled into a beautiful dumpling. The dumpling is surrounded by a forest consommé and topped with green leaves.

I savor each bite, letting the earthy broth linger on my tastebuds. It’s worth the trip for this course alone.

Yet, there are 22 more to go.

Chestnut dumpling filled with bear paw, forest consommé

Hiša Franko: A story of reincarnation

Our menu is titled, ‘Reincarnation.’ It’s particularly fitting, as Ana effortlessly brings new life to humble ingredients. Cauliflower is accompanied by black truffle, egg, milk skin, and buttermilk powder. Trout is cured with fig leaves, barley water, cucumber, and elderflower.

Valter’s cheeses are served with local beeswax and nettle gnocchi. Unique combinations of well-known ingredients create layers of new tastes and textures. A culinary story of rebirth.

Corn beignet, fermented cottage cheese, smoked trout roe, wild chives

My favorite course at Hiša Franko is one that I had prematurely decided would be my least. Two warm corn beignets are plated on a thick slab of a tree trunk. Inside is a mixture of fermented cottage cheese, smoked trout roe, and wild chives. Heaven in a bite. Always trust the chef.

Each course is one artistic expression of Ana’s homeland after another. I photograph discreetly to have visual proof of a meal that is almost too hard to describe.

Impression of charcuterie

Valter’s Cellar

Hiša Franko’s menu has three ways to pair wine: ’Funky’, ‘Local’, and ‘Juicy’. We choose ‘Local’ as I can’t imagine having the opportunity to try eight different types of Slovenian wine again in the foreseeable future.

While I’ve never heard of any of the wines being served, each is a natural fit for its course. A 2013 Royal PetNat, a 2005 Stemberger Cherry Oxy, and an intriguing wine called Aci Urbajs Organic Anarchy are examples. If I didn’t say it then, Valter, thank you! Next time, I’m coming back for ‘Funky’.

Choreographing a meal at Hiša Franko

Hiša Franko’s dining room is slightly more formal than its farmhouse exterior belies. The servers are dressed in what can best be described as costumes rather than uniforms. Their jackets are adorned with bold patterns of vines and clusters of grapes. The experience is an organic, whimsical, and well-orchestrated performance.

It’s a ballet of sorts. Touches of theater are dotted throughout the meal. The way our table had three servers present each course in unison, making sure to use eye contact to stay in sync.

World’s Best

Ana and Valter’s is just the kind of unlikely, unconventional, and unexpected culinary story that the world needs. A world where a small restaurant, deep in the virtually unknown Julian Alps, is discovered and acknowledged for extraordinary food. Where a chef with no formal training can not only thrive, but reinvent.

Ana Roš’s star is still rising, and we are all the lucky beneficiaries of her journey. If we choose to follow.

Her story is just one reason of many to visit Armenia, I mean Slovenia.

Find out about Hisa Franko’s availability and even more glowing reviews here!

October 31, 2021
The Vines, Mendoza—Culinary Highlights and Amazing Adventures

Mendoza, Argentina /

Francis Mallmann may be one of the top chefs in the Americas, but as of January 2016, we had never heard of him. That is, until one snowy night at home we saw his episode of the Netflix docu-series, Chef’s Table. Each episode highlights a chef from around the world, and the footage and scenery intertwined with the food can be mesmerizing, especially if you watch it when you are hungry!

Part of what makes Mallmann unique is his use of cooking on open flames, whether that be above ground or underground, and never in an expected way.

So when the show zeroed in on his Argentine restaurant in the Uco Valley of Mendoza, Siete Fuegos (literally Seven Fires), which is in a resort called The Vines, nestled at the base of the Andes mountains, we headed straight for the computer and booked on the spot. A spontaneous and slightly alcohol-induced move, no doubt. From there, we built our two-week spring break holiday and didn’t look back.

Mendoza’s Top Winery/Luxury Resort

The Vines is a spectacular find. Set, as you’d imagine, around an expanse of vineyards, it is part winery and part luxury resort. You can take the complimentary bikes and explore the 1500 hectares of private vines, where you will inevitably stumble upon the free-standing, all-glass gym and rock climbing wall that rises above the grapes so that you have an unobstructed view of the Andes while you work out.

The villas at The Vines are beautifully decorated, I wanted to move in and stay there, it felt like a home, not a hotel. Stone hot tub, rooftop seating, complimentary iPads and Apple TV for entertainment, all the creature comforts of home, nestled along a path of desert-like gardens, it far exceeded our expectations.

The Siete Fuegos Experience at The Vines

We dined at Siete Fuegos more than once, the main restaurant at the resort. True to Argentine custom, dinners were served quite late (with service being much slower and leisurely than we were used to) and the Malbec flowed generously and at all hours. One night we left the kids behind and had one of the Mallmann’s Seven Fire dining experiences.

Set outside, yet within the open kitchen, and surrounded by the seven different ‘fires’, a table for 30 was set up for a long Argentine communal meal. As the night went on, and the courses came out, the decibel level got higher and higher.

Guests from Norway, Finland, Brazil, and Connecticut—everyone with a different story about how they found themselves here. The salmon had been baked in a cast iron skillet for hours and within a three-inch crust of salt. We had goat that had been strung up to a cage with an open bonfire-style fire surrounding it. It was a culinary adventure with a chef we had all traveled far and wide to see. No one was disappointed, it was a magical dinner experience.

Bodegas and Surprises in Mendoza

We were told we couldn’t leave Mendoza without lunch and a winery tour at Bodega La Azul. Due to an unexpected glitch, we found ourselves without a lunch reservation as planned. However, the owner said he would still happily take us on a tour of his boutique winery.

Falling into the category of ‘sometimes things happen for a reason’, we let nature take its course, although truth be told I was envious of all the guests being seated on the patio as we walked past. Maybe he saw my disappointment because he then told us about a family he knew that was opening a restaurant nearby out of their home. It sounded intriguing, so we got the address, took a leap of faith, and headed into the foothills to find El Paisano.

It was far from a restaurant; it was a home, but we ate one of the most authentic meals we could have hoped for, all eight traditional courses prepared and served by five members of a lovely Argentine family. We sat at a table on the banks of a freshwater stream, the kids found some fishing poles and tried their luck. Daniel and I sat with a bottle of wine and wondered how we ended up here. Oh, and the wine? La Azul, of course.

Check the Availability of The Vines Here!

Note: I may receive a small fee for affiliate links above but rest assured I only highlight places and products I recommend.

March 5, 2021
The Best Lunch Spot in Antigua is…

Catherine’s Café, The Best Lunch in Antigua

Some days I can hardly remember what I ate for breakfast. On other days, I can’t remember what book I am reading. More often than I’d like to admit, I can’t remember what day of the week it is. What I do remember though, is the best beach lunch I had on the island of Antigua nearly 15 years ago.

My husband, our daughter (who was then nine months old), and I, traveled to this charming Caribbean island in the West Indies for the wedding of close friends. Being new parents, and tired parents, we tried to keep up with all of the festivities of the young, hip, and childless wedding crowd.

We made a decent effort, and really placed it all on the line for a festive lunch at Catherine’s Café, knowing full well that daytime drinking, and parenting an infant, could be a disastrous combination.

Catherine’s has since changed locations, from a waterfront deck at English Harbour, to a beachside one, at the tip of Pigeon Beach, overlooking Falmouth Harbour.

However, much remains unchanged — the salty, seaside vibe, the perfectly-paced tempo of the music, and the dreamy lull of the breezy sea air. So what if I can’t remember exactly what Catherine’s looked like back then, or what I ate? The feeling was the memory. And it felt right, again.

Booked on a feeling at Catherine’s Cafe

When we decided to book a family trip to Antigua, it was based on emotion and memory. My husband and I had two priorities, lunch at Catherine’s Café, and sunset views at Shirley Heights Lookout.

For those who know us, it isn’t completely surprising that we would plan a trip around a restaurant, or a view, or a feeling. Not that our knee-jerk reactions to travel haven’t occasionally led us astray. I have booked a hotel in the wrong part of a city, or the country, or unknowingly during the rainy season. Whoops.

More often than not, however, I do the research and the planning. Yet, being surprised by a mistake can sometimes be exciting. It can also cause marital stress, but that’s a different post.

Set sail for Antigua

The islands of Antigua and Barbuda were settled by the English in 1632 and eventually gained independence in 1981. Antigua has much to offer tourists, yet for some reason doesn’t feel ruled by tourism.

In 2016, Antigua became home to a UNESCO World Heritage Site, Nelson’s Dockyard. In order to be deemed a UNESCO site, a place or landmark must have ‘cultural, historical and/or natural significance’. It is legally protected from then onwards for future generations to enjoy. We walked around this small piece of history at dusk, the orange glow of the sun simmering in the inky sea—mere inches from some of the world’s most expensive and drool-inducing yachts.

Nelson’s Dockyard is also the home to Antigua’s famous annual sailing regatta. Drawing competitors worldwide, and heading into its 53rd year, I was amused to discover the inspiration for the famous week-long regatta.

As the story goes—in 1968, a group of island hoteliers and friends thought they could extend the winter tourist season by adding on the regatta. This clever idea has since become a strong part of Antigua’s heritage and culture, not to mention an excuse to check out the 150-200 yachts that descend upon the island each year.

Antigua: the Nature Island

Despite the glamorous yachts and sailboats, Antigua is remarkably chill in attitude, content to allow its natural wonders to take center stage. These natural wonders, many small and hidden, are patiently waiting for you if you take the time to really look.

We kayaked along shallow serpentine inlets that opened up to a large, serene pond. Gray herons swooped noisily over our heads, while clusters of flying fish paralleled our route. I collected microscopic, pale pink, jewel-like shells. Both full, and double, rainbows appeared after nearly every passing shower.

Early one morning on the beach, I watched Piers Morgan (yes, that Piers Morgan) take a photo of his wife in front of a particularly vibrant double rainbow. Nearby, an Antiguan woman from the resort murmured, “We see that every day.” I wasn’t sure if she meant the double rainbow or Piers Morgan. A unique daily sighting, either way.

Zooming in on my photos a little later, I laughed as I realized that my shot of the double rainbow captured Piers taking a photo of it, too. When I checked out his Instagram feed, sure enough, there it was. How meta.

Overall, there is a kind of beauty in Antigua that can only be revealed by allowing the mind to stop thinking and just look. A slow burn of beauty, a marathon, rather than a sprint, of beauty. (Note to self: you have officially overused the word ‘beauty’. Find thesaurus.)

Antigua’s Shirley Heights Lookout

Once a military lookout and gun battery, Shirley Heights is now a party every Sunday night for locals and tourists alike. In order to fully appreciate this sunset celebration, you need to get past the expected cheesiness; the loud reggae band, the cheap drinks, the throng of (sometimes not so civilized) tourists, and just go for it. Why? Because Shirley Heights, at 490 feet and with 360-degree views, offers the best panorama of the island, hands down.

If you are at all like us, and only interested in the sunset, go early, grab a drink, and a coveted spot on the ledge that overlooks Falmouth and English Harbours. Then, hold your ground.

We watched as a rainstorm swept over the harbors, obscuring them completely, and then clear just in time for the sun to re-introduce itself and descend. Despite the drizzle, we stayed put, refusing to give up our perch. It was worth getting a little wet, the sky was mesmerizing and dramatic, offering up prismatic colors and textures that are hard to define. Shirley Heights, fifteen years later, and still on top of its game.

Taking it slowly in Antigua

Many Caribbean islands have their version of the boozy beach lunch. St Barths has the colorful daytime club/restaurant, Nikki Beach. The under-the-radar glam island of Mustique is known for its equally understated beach bar, Basil’s.

Yet, there is something about the inherent low-key-ness of Antigua that especially lends itself to dedicating long sun-framed hours to lunch. I love the natural, lazy blurring of meals when lunch is leisurely and sometimes surprisingly turns into dinner. The un-rushed antithesis of real life. Again, giving time to lingering, watching, and absorbing.

Being responsible parents, we decided to taxi to Catherine’s from our resort. Antigua is particularly hilly, with narrow roads, and it is difficult to tell what is around each corner, whether that be a secluded cove, a colorful church, or a careening truck. We thought it best to leave the driving to an island expert.

Catherine’s, at last

A wooden planked path past a bakery and a boutique led us to our destination—open-air, louver-shuttered, sea-breezy Catherine’s Café. Ahead, Veuve Clicquot branded, butter yellow umbrellas popped brilliantly from the sand, adding another layer of warmth to the already warm atmosphere.

Inviting circular loungers were haphazardly scattered around, and large Neem trees offered shade. Naked, sun-kissed French toddlers ran amok. I could tell right away that the new Catherine’s was going to be worth rediscovering.

We arrived at the unfashionably early time of 12pm, which afforded us a chance to snag a prime beachfront table. Our shoes promptly came off as we settled into the plush chairs, and into the scene. The tables filled up quickly, and we overheard one entitled guest try to buy their way to a better table position. He was really going to kill the vibe, I thought. Then I smiled and relaxed. My uncool, early timing had paid off.

Later, I overheard another guest pompously remark, “I’ve gone off Ott in favor of Whispering Angel.” A few hours at lunch here and I could easily start a new instagram account: OverheardAntigua. Maybe it already exists?

Damien, the charmer

I introduced myself to Damien, the effervescent bartender, and asked if he would mind if I used his photo on my site. Happy to oblige, he smiled, posed, then told us about his favorite drinks.

From behind the row of garnish-filled mason jars, he produced an extensive gin and tonic menu. I think he knew we were there for the long haul. Drinks-wise, Damien nailed it. Never doubt a Caribbean bartender on his own turf.

Even the color palette of Catherine’s—ecru, ivory, eggshell blue, and foamy green—seemed designed to compliment the beachscape. Tightly woven Chilewich mats, pale rattan chairs and oversized dangling, domed lampshades added to the gentle vibe of the café. The soundtrack— the ebb and flow of the sea, the soft clinking of glasses, squealing babies, and the best sound of all, the sound of true vacation laziness.

The background music that particular day was Jamiroquai, and I was suddenly overcome with nostalgia, that English funk and acid jazz brought me back to the early 90s in NYC. I love when music attaches itself to a moment. A past memory and a current one collide in the best way.

The Parisian-influenced menu made us feel like we were on a French island rather than a former British one. Halfway into our meal, a group of 15 gorgeous, tanned, twenty-somethings sat at the table beside us. The four of us quietly argued whether they were mega-yacht owners’ kids, or the cast of the TV show, Below Deck.

After a bit of research (aka questioning the waiter), we discovered they were, indeed, the crew from one of the yachts in the harbor. I kept a sharp eye on my daughter who had already fallen in love with a ruggedly handsome deckhand sitting at the head of the table.

Choices at Catherine’s

We indulged in almost everything the menu had to offer. The roast chicken was artfully placed on a slice of layered potatoes. Freshly diced tuna tartare was garnished with a touch of fennel and greens—another standout. The gazpacho was almost too pretty to eat.

A cheese course seemed important to complete the meal, or maybe just to elongate it. The baguettes were freshly baked, with perfectly salted, creamy French butter served alongside, and cut on-demand at a central area that also doubled as the barista station.

The service might have been a little snail-paced that day, but those who complained missed out on the very reason for lunching at a place like Catherine’s in the first place. It is the long meal, the marathon of courses, and the multiple bottles of wine, that make the boozy lunch a boozy lunch. The sooner one gets on island time, the better.

Memories of Antigua

So, while my memory is unreliable at the best of times, I have learned, above all else, to trust my feelings. Thank you, Catherine and Shirley, for living up to expectations, and even exceeding them in some ways. As an aside, today is Tuesday, I had a peanut butter banana smoothie for breakfast, and am currently reading The Hungry Tide, by Amitav Ghosh.

Long live the boozy beach lunch.

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February 4, 2020
The Best (and Only) Lunch in Erbonne, Italy. Pop. 11

Often, my husband and I head off the beaten path, so to speak, and wing it, when we travel. When we visited Lake Como, we did just that one morning and were rewarded with the best lunch to be found just outside of Lake Como, at the only restaurant in the tiny hamlet of Erbonne.

It was a surprise that one of our best lunches in the Lake Como area was not at a stone grotto-ed Michelin-starred restaurant, or on a lakeside patio with the majestic Alps in the distance. It was a surprise that we didn’t need to get there by Vaporetto or pull up to a parking lot filled with purring Maseratis. It turns out, our pre-COVID trip to Italy was filled with surprises.

Glamourous Lake Como

Lake Como is distractingly beautiful, with much to offer from both visual and culinary perspectives. Soaring mountains plunge directly into the illustrious lake. Villages puddle neatly between valleys, and ceramic-tiled rooftops notch up the hills like bricks of red legos. Restaurants dot the perimeter of the lake, each offering breezy umbrella-ed decks from which to gaze.

Glacial Lake Como is awfully pleased with itself and has every right to be, nestled in this idyllic locale just an hour from Milan. It is no wonder it has been a retreat for aristocrats, and for the rich and famous, since Roman times.

The lake itself offers a postcard image with each blink. Gorgeous boats (blink) alongside glitzy lakeside hamlets (blink) and swoon-worthy waterside cafes (blink). Glamorously dressed Italians, with their equally glamorous dogs in tow, teeter about (blink, blink, blink). A snapshot of chic Italian life, all in one dreamy destination.

Daytrippin’

As glamorous as Lake Como may be, the explorer in me wondered what might lie just beyond the glam. Counterintuitively, we headed away from the lake, with nothing but our Lonely Planet guidebook, and a tiny, bumblebee of a car—a cadmium yellow, Fiat 500.

Buzzing up and around the steep hilltop villages of Lombardy offered us a chance to experience the less touristy side of Lake Como. The rustic, the rambling, and the boutique-free side. Always chasing a view, we set off to see the fabled lakes from above. Our destination was Cima Sighignola, also known as the Balcony of Italy.

Not surprisingly, it was a challenge to get there. Roads became so narrow we were sure we were driving on sidewalks. Lanes looked so private, we confused them with driveways. Every turn had us doubting our navigation system, which due to never-ending hairpin turns, often had our Fiat floating in the middle of a lake.

The balcony of Italy

At 3120 meters above sea level, Cima Sighignola’s uninterrupted views of the lakes were worth the (gray) hair-raising turns. From our tourist-free aerie, we could see Lake Lugano, the city of Lugano, and the Swiss Alps, all at once.

We hovered there longer than we anticipated, mesmerized by the panorama of the lakes, and the mountain peaks that kissed the clouds. An elderly Italian woman appeared from a small wooden shack, with a better-than-expected espresso. This shouldn’t have been a surprise. After all, this is Italy, a country whose self-worth is inherently coffee-based.

Population 7, 10, or 11?

Blindly following our Lonely Planet through another series of sharp switchbacks, we headed towards Erbonne, in the commune of San Fedele d’Intelvi. This pre-roman, 3000-year-old, pin-prick of a village was once smugglers crossing between Italy and Switzerland. It was off-the-beaten-path, even by Lonely Planet standards.

We were on a mission to find Osteria del Valico, the sole restaurant of Erbonne for the past 100 years. As of 2017, Wikipedia stated that the village of Erbonne had eleven inhabitants. Other sources claimed the population was anywhere from seven to ten. Regardless of the facts, this was a place worth finding.

Erbonne’s best/only lunch

With a total of 50 buildings (a combination of houses and stables) what Erbonne lacks in structure, it makes up for in ultra-rustic beauty. Erbonne, on the edge of the Swiss border, is surrounded by layers of overlapping mountains, and a verdant, green patchwork of fields.

The village has no parking. I don’t mean ‘it was hard to find a parking space’. I mean literally, there is no parking. Not to be deterred, we left the car outside of the village and walked. Wispy, yellow, grasses lined our path, and created a colorful backdrop to the simple pink, red, and white, homes clumped in the near distance.

Climbing roses stuck firmly to painted walls. Patches of struggling wildflowers clung to dear life on crumbling edifices. Flowers poured out of semi-neglected window boxes. In Erbonne, time seemed to stand eerily still.

Carbo-loading in Erbonne

Osteria del Valico was easy to find. After all, it was the only restaurant in the village. Ancient, gnarly, wisteria vines had taken permanent ownership of the osteria’s once-white facade. Wooden steps, warped by time, led to the humble tavern entrance.

We were guided through the original ‘shabby chic’ dining room towards the outdoor patio. The wide, planked floors had undoubtedly seen decades of foodies pass over them. Crooked black and white photo frames, filled with patrons from days long gone, adorned the walls. Lacy curtains, a collection of vintage ladles, and a chalkboard-scrawled menu made the grandmother’s closet vibe that much more charming.

From the patio, we heard musical Italian laughter coming from a table within. The unmistakable sounds of friends with a long, comfortable history. I had noted the large group earlier. It was entirely possible that every known villager was having lunch there that day! Church bells chimed the hour in the distance. We settled in.

The House Special

Lonely Planet declared that Osteria del Valico’s house specialty was pizzoccheri. Never one to argue with our travel bible, we promptly ordered. If it was good enough for the seven, ten, or eleven, locals of Erbonne, it was good enough for us. It turned out to be one of our best dishes on the trip. Surprise!

Pizzoccheri is a buckwheat pasta (80% buckwheat flour, 20% wheat flour), along the lines of tagliatelle, usually cooked with greens and cubed potatoes (carbs on top of carbs). It is layered in various kinds of cheese, like Valtellina Casera and ground Parmigiano Reggiano, before being dressed with garlic and fried lightly in butter.

I swore I couldn’t eat it all, and I kept swearing—until I ate it all. How often do I get to have lightly fried pasta, I rationalized. Oh, and did I mention the charcuterie board piled high with Italian meats, and rustic Italian bread, that we had already consumed? I made a mental note to cancel dinner.

A family affair in bucolic Erbonne

Osteria del Valico has changed locations over the years, and by 2002, had settled into a stone house on the edge of town. We met the chef/owner, his wife, and his daughter, as well as a Swiss couple who had driven over for lunch from Geneva. Ahhhh, to live in Europe.

The chef, wearing a bad-ass skull patterned beret (that is if a beret can ever be considered bad-ass), and his wife, were engaging, warm, and friendly, despite the language barrier. In an effort to communicate, we attempted to find a common language. Eventually, French triumphed, as both my husband and the chef were fluent.

Found Moments in Erbonne

Osteria del Valico has very little in the way of web presence. Aside from a few Trip Advisor comments, and a simple webpage, it is virtually off the Google grid. A place like this; challenging to find, with simple fare, and a convivial vibe, is what I call, a true ‘lost and found’ moment.

It’s likely true that not everyone will find this kind of day trip as exciting as we did. Not everyone gets a thrill from seeking out a lone restaurant, in a tiny village, with an unknown population, with the hope of uncovering the undiscovered. We are those people.

Exploring a combination of experiences when visiting a place with as much hype and hyperbole as Lake Como, gave our trip more depth. I relished the juxtaposition of the obvious and the hidden. Both have a place in Lake Como and its bucolic surroundings. Why not have a bit of each? Chances are, you will be pleasantly surprised.

Find it:

Osteria del Valico: https://osteriadelvalico.business.site/
Balcony of Italy: https://www.atlasobscura.com/places/balcony-of-italy-balcone-ditalia

August 9, 2018

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