Fishing for compliments
Does fare from a straw roofed hut on the beach count as street food?
The surfboards are tightly bound to the roof as we climb into the rusted heap of a shuttle that will take us to the remote beach 30 mins from town.
By the time the ride we arrive at the coast our arms are tense from holding onto the roll bars for dear life and butts are bruised from bouncing on the wooden planks that act as make-shift benches as the shuttle expertly maneuvers along the washed out dirt ‘road’ with mud bogs and potholes that could easily swallow a large cow.
The nervousness of wondering if we’ll survive the trek is overpowered by the anticipation of the crashing waves we are about to conquer.
The instant we see the surf pounding against the rocks the perilous journey is all but forgotten as we hastily grab up our boards, nearly tripping ourselves as we attempt to attach leashes as we race towards the ocean.
After a few hours of rippin’ I am exhausted, famished and slightly crispy from the intense noon-day sun so I collapse in a beach chair sheltered under the straw roof of the ‘comida’.
Needing a break from the standard pinto-gallo (read rice and beans) that I’ve been scarfing for the past 4 days I order the fish tacos.
The hut contains nothing more than a hot plate and a small cooler so I try not to think about where it is my fish may be stored. That is the joy of street-food. The simplicity and often dodginess of the places. The food may be awful, it may be great and quite possibly could result in the rest of my vacation being spent intimately acquainted with el bano but I’ll risk it.
This time I am lucky and more than a little impressed. The tortillas, hand-made that morning, are soft and have a slight sweetness from the freshly ground mesa.
The unseasoned white-fish is delicate and seems to melt in your mouth.
And huge chunks of fresh avocado? In the four days I’ve been in Nicaragua, this is the first vegetable I have seen that isn’t rotten or terribly anemic.
Fresh, clean flavour unlike anything I had encountered so far in Nica.
The hut may not technically be considered ‘street food’ but when it comes to simple, good food prepared outside of a standard kitchen you’d be hard pressed to find better ocean-side fare.
