BAYAHIBE, Dominican Republic — The word “furlough” always inspired images of soldiers running off to Tokyo (see: “M*A*S*H”) or Bangkok (see: Vietnam War circa 1968-75), drowning frustrations in a typhoon of wine, women and song.
Now that it is part of the American working-class vernacular, “furlough” has a less romantic image. How does “unpaid time off” grab you?
You know what? It grabbed me right in the palate. My fellow downtrodden Americans are taking these mandatory cutbacks and sitting home, saving money and cutting grass. I took my furlough to the Caribbean last week and added a new definition.
Sun, sand and sea bass.
Face it, folks. Having to eat a paycheck tastes a lot better when you have a side dish of marlin washed down with Dominican rum. I didn’t even choke on the expense. I booked one of those all-inclusive resorts that are including everything short of knighthood to lure tourists in this awful world economy.
For $800, I received round-trip airfare, five nights’ lodging and all the food and booze I could consume at the Dominican Republic’s Catalonia Gran Dominicus, a beautiful resort on one of the prettiest stretches of white-sand beach in the Caribbean.
There were two problems: One, like all all-inclusives, the daily cuisine resembles the host country’s about as much as a shopping mall food court; two, getting there.
The resort lies about 60 miles from the capital of Santo Domingo, a 2 1/2-hour drive. Along the way, I veered around potholes the size of copper mines, guessed whether my lane was one way or two and hoped my insurance covered two future major league shortstops on their motor scooters. Red lights were mere street decorations.
The resort’s huge dining hall had everything: sushi to puttanesca. There were some local dishes like egg empanado (basically a deep-fried hard-boiled egg and as bad as it sounds), boiled yams (they look like gray hunks of lard) and sweet plantain (sweet as a doughnut and healthier).
But to get a true taste of the Dominican, I needed to get into the Dominican. While most all-inclusive tourists won’t leave a resort for anything short of a violent coup, I drove the two miles to tiny Bayahibe. It’s a port village with abandoned building projects, a scruffy beach and ramshackle souvenir stands.
But do not judge a cuisine by its backdrop, or, in Bayahibe’s case, its bathrooms. La Bahía is a romantic restaurant with white tablecloths under palm trees just feet from where boats bob up and down in front of a setting sun.
Was this was more representative of the food than the bathroom — no lightbulb, no doorknob, no water? Turns out it was. The piping hot fish soup brimming with shrimp, squid and lobster in a rich broth was well worth the 225 pesos (about $6.40).
Nearby at Mare Nostrum, an upstairs balcony with stylish wooden furniture overlooked the harbor and actually had other diners, unlike other places in town.
It’s too bad. Dominican cuisine is a mixture of Spanish, African and Taino, the area’s original inhabitants. They all knew how to fish, and Dominican seafood separates itself in its wonderful sauces. At Mare Nostrum I had mero criolla sea bass in a tomato sauce with basil, garlic and cubanela, a local vegetable that looks like a giant jalapeño pepper.
These were appetizers compared with one of the best seafood meals I’ve ever had: At Cubana, a shack on the beach where my table wobbled in the sand, I had marlin al ajillo, a rich yellowish garlic sauce that lined my mouth with pure unadulterated culinary joy.
Yet where was everybody? Mare Nostrum owner Enrica Tonette is one of the many Italians who migrated here and is getting squeezed out by the all-inclusives.
She said when those resorts became the rage at the turn of the century, tourists flocked to them for the beaches but fled them at mealtime. In the past 18 months, the resorts beefed up their menus. At Dominicus I remember eating lobster, grilled brochette and chocolate cake u la mode.
So why leave an all-inclusive resort? The same reason you leave America. Some of the best finds don’t need a lightbulb.
If you go
Cubana, Playa Bayahibe, 809-757-9601
Mare Nostrum, 1-Playa de Bayahibe, 809-833-0055.
John Henderson: 303-954-1299 or jhenderson@denverpost.com.
