You'll wish you were there... SUNSET IN MARGARITA (Bob Levine)  There is an island off the coast of Venezuela called Margarita. The citizens of Caracas have made it their local hangout in an area blessed with wonderful beaches. The favorable exchange rate and lack of international tourists make it an inexpensive Caribbean vacation spot. On one visit, a young lady and I were exploring the most popular beach, Juan Gregio. About midday we went up the coast about a mile and a half and found "Playa del Mar", a completely deserted beach about a half mile long, where we spent the rest of the day swimming, sunbathing and cuddling. As we were leaving, we passed a building with a wonderful patio and a bar but no people in evidence. It looked like a restaurant so I tried the front door, entered, and met the staff: Mother (chef), Father (bartender), and Son (waiter). We asked if we could buy a couple of cold beers and were shown to a table out on the patio. It was a perfect setting for a late afternoon in the southern Caribbean. It faced west, looking out over the ocean, and featured a palm tree with 3 tame parrots and a Macaw in it. The household kittens were roaming around, alternately sleeping in the sun and investigating us. We sipped our drinks, watched the sunset and asked the young waiter for a dinner recommendation. He suggested the full dinner for two: Soup to dessert for 300 Bolivars. We fed the birds from the bread basket and persuaded each other that we really did see the fabled green flash as the last of the sun dipped beneath the water. The boy appeared with an enormous tureen filled with a wonderful seafood soup which his mother had been cooking slowly all day. It contained several kinds of fish, squid, clams and shrimp. I've been blessed enough to be able to search out the best seafood soups all over the world, but this had to be among the finest I've had. Subtly spiced and slowly simmered, it would have graced the finest tables anywhere. We lingered over our soup, fed the kittens small pieces of fish (as was their due) and admired the stunning full moon as it rose. The son returned with a whole baked red snapper in a wonderful sauce, and pulled the cover off the dish like a conjurer performing a favorite trick. He assured us that it was only an hour out of the ocean and pointed to a little dock to show us where it was caught. He placed it on a serving platter and deboned it for us like a Parisian head waiter. We thought we had no more room for anything, but when we tasted this our hunger returned and we devoured it all. The kittens were disappointed with us for our lack of generosity toward them. After the fish came a wonderful homemade flan, followed by strong, black, South American espresso and a glass of cognac. I indulged myself with a good Cuban cigar while sitting under a full moon with the waves gently rolling in. After we finished, our bill came to about $50 U.S. , a bargain by any standards. I added a good tip and thanked the family profusely for a wonderful meal which lingers in my memory to this day. AROUND THE WORLD IN 80 COURSES (Jef. Hyde) The finest concentration of excellent meals I have ever experienced in one environment was at sea. We'd heard fabulous tales of the food offered on cruise ships, but our prior cuisine-at-sea experience was with one of the larger cruise lines. Though their fare was plentiful and always available, it rarely rose above the level of competently produced institutional food. One winter my wife and I decided to escape the sleet and snow, and booked passage aboard the Windstar Line's WIND SPIRIT, a 148 passenger luxury yacht. Our route took us through the Caribbean from Barbados to St. Kitt's, with a handful of stops at other delightful islands. The small size of the vessel, its elegant and understated decor and the high staff-to-passenger ratio bespoke a sense of calm, gracious service which made us feel pampered at every turn. Our ports of call were fascinating but, by my lights, all else paled in comparison to the food aboard ship. Breakfasts were mind-boggling. Each morning's buffet featured several varieties of fresh fruit juices, hot and cold cereals, egg dishes, French Toast, waffles, pancakes, fresh muffins, smoked salmon, fresh kippers (a British crew, dontcha know...), and some of the finest rolls and croissants (with mounds of sweet, Normandy butter and fresh preserves) to be found outside Paris. There was always a daily special, ranging from Eggs Benedict to grilled Petite Filet. Then there was the huge assortment of ripe, fresh fruits; I haven't the strength to go on... Following breakfast, I would have succumbed to the temptation of a nap only an hour after arising, but I might have slept through lunch! We took lunch ashore, at whatever our daily port of call was. Here we sampled the local fare in small cafes or restaurants, finding wonderful new dishes to try. (Note: Goat stew is actually quite tasty.) Aboard Windstar vessels there is no assigned seating, and dinnertime always found us at our special corner table in the dining room. With its elegant crystal and silver, fresh flowers and breathtaking ocean view of the sunset each evening, it became our refuge. It was our private, romantic space, and it was here we unwound and discussed the day’s adventures while we held hands like teenagers and gazed out to sea. One night as we narrowed our choices to either the sea bass with orange saffron coulis or the roasted duck breast with lime and mint sauce, (or maybe the Mahi-Mahi with papaya and guava; quite possibly the herb-crusted Beef Wellington...) our young Indonesian waiter informed us that he'd happily bring us a little of each dish to sample…and so the game was afoot! He would always recommend an extra little something, no matter what we ordered, saying "I'll just bring you a tiny portion. Chef went ashore today and selected the ingredients himself. Ohhh--it's delicious!" Nary a dinner passed without several small plates cluttering our table, as we nibbled at the chef's daily exercises in gastronomic wizardry. It was so hard to keep up! The menu changed every night, and we had to taste it all! Regardless of our dessert selection the waiter would always ask if we would like ice cream with it—even when it was Baked Alaska! This fellow had my number, all right… After dinner, we would take a leisurely stroll about the decks (I hope you don't think we had the energy to jog...), listening to the waves, watching the lights of distant islands, and enjoying the sea breezes. We would drift off to sleep later, rocked by the ancient, lulling rhythm of the sea. This was our nightly ritual. My wife would have her usual dreams about Mel Gibson, while I would be dreaming about the next day's menu... MY PHILADELPHIA STORY (Larry Olson) While Philadelphia abounds in fine restaurants that cater to almost every discerning palate, Le Bec-Fin, a classic French establishment, stands out as the city's definitive crown jewel. Since my move to Philly in 1985, Le Bec-Fin has been the centerpiece of my plans marking very special occasions-- a new job, a promotion, visits from good friends and family, and birthdays. And when I'm here, no Christmas holiday is complete without at least a lunch at Le Bec-Fin. What's incredible is the fact that every single person that I've ever taken there (including friends from New York) invariably says, "This is the best restaurant I've ever been to!" So what's the big deal? My answer---it's the ultimate cure for gastronomic banality! My first experience at Le Bec-Fin dates back to the early Fall of 1985. I had just moved to Philly that August and was still acclimating myself to an environment completely different from that of Washington, D.C.'s. In addition, my cousin was coming from Sweden on business to the East Coast, and I was faced with the dilemma of not knowing where to take him for a memorable dinner. After all, I was too new to the area. Taking a poll at work, almost everyone (all native Philadelphians) I asked, flatly stated, "Le Bec-Fin", if I could afford it. This time, price could not be a factor, since this relative had been good to me during my visit to Sweden two years before. And besides, it was important that he'd convey a positive experience to the other relatives back in the old country! So Le Bec-Fin it was. I was more than a bit skeptical since French restaurants typically carry a hefty price tag because of overhead. I hate paying for overhead! Upon making the reservation (they were booked three weeks in advance for either a Friday or Saturday night), I was surprised to learn that there were only two dinner seatings (6 and 9 P.M.). This was a new twist for me. Not really knowing what to expect, we arrived promptly for the 9 P.M. seating on a Saturday night. Anyway, I'll never forget what happened when I opened the entrance door to the restaurant. Apparently, I had pulled so hard on the door knob that it came off in my hand. With door knob in hand and appearing quite the buffoon, I had, indeed, finally arrived at Le Bec-Fin. The rest of the story, however, is blissful history. The atmosphere of the restaurant was unforgettably unique. It was like dining inside a Faberge egg with its old-style gilt and ormolu decor. Thinking back thirteen years to that first visit there with my cousin , I particularly remember the shining mirrors, damask-rust wall panels, candlelight, a shimmering crystal chandelier, and the dahlias, roses, and peonies lined up in little galvanized buckets on the fireplace. No, it did not appear gauche! Rather, it was tasteful elegance. The mood was almost dream-like, with people speaking to each other in whispers. Philadelphia has always been an eater's town, and a careful spender's town. A big part of its success is that Le Bec-Fin, fixed dinner price $102 a person, is, in its expensive way, like those high-interest, jumbo Treasury bonds that cost $10,000 each: a very big bargain. The dining experience begins with bite-sized hors d'oeuvres, then a choice of eight appetizers, seven first courses, ten entrees, a salad or cheese course, sorbets, dessert, and coffee. Unlike most fixed-price menus, nothing cost extra, not even the foie gras (marinated in cognac and Madeira, then poached in sauterne). There is always a kind of madness about the food at Le Bec-Fin. You get the distinct impression that everything has to be the best, the freshest, the newest, and the most surprising (especially the dessert carts with over 50 different selections---no kidding!). As with my first visit in 1985, the food continues to be nothing less than intoxicating. By the way, that cousin of mine from Sweden told everyone at home about the "best dining experience of his life" at a French restaurant in Philadelphia. He's not the type to generally use superlatives. In addition to the atmosphere and food, it's the service that earns Le Bec-Fin its five-star rating. Waiters stay at Le Bec-Fin for years. I have always been surprised to note that there are more waiters than tables; but it's mysteriously complicated by the fact that a table has no single waiter. All waiters do all the work (it's odd to see waiters in tuxedos doubling as busboys), and all waiters seem to share a single memory. One takes your order, several more bring the food, hidden under those high-domed silver cloches that are lifted, all at the same moment. Other waiters clear plates, another knows when you're ready for coffee and yet another, pouring refills, knows without asking whether you want regular or decaf. Even Leona Helmsley would be hard pressed to find one scintilla of fault with Le Bec-Fin's service. As a side note, I have discovered over the years since my first dining experience at Le Bec-Fin that this is the food "event" of a lot of lives. You can't live in Philadelphia very long before at least one friend calls on the phone or stops you on the street to say with a kind of shyness that is really low-key pride turned inside-out, "Guess what? I just ate at Le Bec-Fin!" GRACE NOTE (by Tom Welsh; see "Did I Order... THAT?" on page 3) I contrast that with a nice restaurant in Fairfax -- I think it's called Seasons, something like that. I was having a business lunch with three colleagues. They took our orders. The waitress came back ten minutes later with our salads and told my friend John -- "I'm sorry sir, we are out of the grilled portobello. Please pick something else from the menu." She hands him the menu and adds"Anything you like. And there will be no charge -- compliments of the manager." Just like that -- a free, great meal, just because they were out of what he wanted. Class....! A good time for a nice and some dessert, yes? (SUBMIT YOUR STORY FOR INCLUSION HERE)