Friday, we went to Champagne Bistro, hoping maybe bouchot mussels were on the menu. We had preordered a bottle of Pinot Blanc to be put in the cooler awaiting our arrival. Stopped by Select Wine Cellar first and talked for a while with Sylvain. Like many others, he’s been getting by on locals for business. As he was preparing for an afternoon wine tasting, we ordered 3 bottles of wine to pick up after lunch so we wouldn’t interrupt his tasting, and then headed next door to the restaurant.

No bouchot today, nor duck confit. He had duck shepherd’s pie. It sounded weird and intriguing enough, so I ordered it. Not really what I was expecting—far better. The duck was done in a cream sauce, topped with mashed potatoes, with a crispy-ish top. Very tasty. I’m sure I’ll have it again. Shirley, ever in pursuit of beef bourguignon, had to settle for braised beef instead, and enjoyed it. Sylvain was assisting with the table service, probably more than he wanted, as he couldn’t fully tend to his wine tasting.

Saturday was Marigot Market day and we preselected conch chowder at Rosemary’s. We had stopped there briefly on Wednesday after an aborted trip to see Sir Roland Richardson. I managed to get us lost in the Samana compound. Drove all over figuring there would be adequate signage for the hotel. Uh uh. Stopped at a guard house by Cupocoy and asked directions. Followed the directions and ended up where we initially entered, so going to be 40 plus minutes late, we decided to go to the Market. As it was later in the day, we didn’t spend much time, but decided to come back Saturday.

There are at best 50% of the goods sellers, and most now only come Wed and Sat. Many of the arts and crafts stands we remember were there, and there were also some new faces. Having way too may Secret Spot Tshirts, and not needing any more, I stopped by the stand and promptly bought this year’s model. I also saw a Tshirt that read F*** mosquitos SXM, and bought a muscle shirt on a whim. It’s beachwear. Shirley picked up some nice gifts for our cats’ care takers.

The Lolos are now in a newly built “restaurant row” where the produce vendors used to be. Very nice and pleasant, yet missing the character of the old place. Now I see the other lolos whereas before I just went out the archway, turned right at Rosemary’s, and never noticed another place. The fish mongers are still there, but had left by the time of our late arrival. Most of the produce vendors are gone, and those remaining are more into spices, herbs and limited produce. And, Miss Ebby’s stand was there.

(an aside: it’s around 4 am, and I’m in the breezeway doing this report so as to not disturb Shirley. The 3 male cats are sitting behind me, waiting for me to go to the room so they’ll get fed. I ‘ll have to battle them shortly to make coffee and get back to the task at hand)

Miss Ebby was a charming lady who passed away around 7 or so years ago. Her children now run the place. We tend to refer to her in the present tense, for some strange reason. As it was past 11, most items were sold out. There was a salt fish patty remaining that I ordered. Shirley was eying the bread pudding and I was eyeing the sweet potato pie. Since I rule the roost in this household, we got the bread pudding. Then I remembered boudin. They were out of the conch, but still had salt fish, so I ordered 3. The other night when we ate them, I found 4. Nice touch, a little lagniappe.

Now for a bite to eat at Rosemary’s where we had supposedly pre-ordered conch chowder. Oops just sold the last bowl. No big deal, as I figured she thought we were no shows. She responded that she did have conch ceviche and as I prefer ceviche to chowder anyway, I was happy. We ended up splitting an order of accras, a conch ceviche and goat curried goat The goat came with salad, provisions, plantains, and maybe one or two other items. I really enjoyed the ceviche, especially since unheated conch isn’t that common here. The accras were outstanding—crisp fried on the outside, and tender inside, similar to the way I like my fries.

That evening, we weren’t all that hungry so decided to head to the lolos for a bite around 7. Got there, ate, finished around 7:40 grabbed an ice cream cone next door and were back at the room before 8. Not a fan of quick bites like that.

Sunday was essentially a do-nothing day, bookened by meals. Bakery run for breakfast and Bistrot Caraibes for dinner. We chose a godawful 5:45 time, as the 6 O’clock at L’ Auberge earlier in the week didn’t leave enough time to fully enjoy the meal. For maybe 10 years now, we eat only appetizers, the apps having won the battle for gastro intestinal capacity over mains. They didn’t offer mussels—tasty little morsels that Bistrot excels at. We had their outstanding (Island Favorite for us) smoked salmon, goat cheese pastry, French onion soup, and snails in garlic butter. All very good. For some strange reason, I wasn’t too hungry, so I didn’t consume copious quantities of bread sopping up the garlic butter. Oh, and they changed the wrapper on the pastry to be more of a burrito than a puff pastry.

We shared a crème brulee for dessert, another of our standard practices. We have now had crème brulee at 4 different places. They are all similar in taste, but very different in texture and consistency. Bistrot’s is the richest, creamiest, luxury mouth-feel of the lot. I think the appropriate term, which is generally overused, is unctuous.

In addition to the food, we each had a Kir Royale, glass of house chard, and a decaf cappuccino to wrap up another great meal.

Another 3 days has passed. Next up will be Ital’s and Phillipsburg, Tropicana, Hercules and a revisit to Sunset Café. That’ll bring me current through yesterday if I don’t fall too much further behind.