Text 2161, 152 rader
Skriven 2006-06-16 09:33:00 av MICHAEL LOO (1:123/140)
Ärende: next next day 822
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Back to the Windjammer for brekkers - I had the identical
hash with the identical result. This was Coco Cay day, with
captive fun in the sun activities on the small but pretty
but Royal Caribbean-owned resort island. I would have signed
up for snorkeling, but they didn't have prescription goggles
at all, much less 9-diopter ones (I've snorkeled before with
6-diopter ones and enjoyed the experience, although it was
a little queasifying). So we stayed aboard and enjoyed the
ship largely to ourselves. The first night, I think, I had
sampled the pool and found it not thrilling, as it had been
full of folks earlier in the day, and warm salt water and
the scent of children recently resident had made the
experience similar to what I'd imagine a giant used toilet
to be like. On my negative report ("chlorinated salt water
- it's NASTY") Carol decided not to take advantage of the
amenity. Today, there were a few tanners out in the tropical
sun but nobody in the pool, so as she is normally fishlike
when confronted with a body of water, Carol and I frolicked
to our heart's content, pretty much monopolizing the pool
for an hour plus. Then to the Windjammer for lunch. I made a
beeline for Jade, where "Indonesian lamb curry" turned out
to be a really nice rendang (I had some bites that were
definitely beef, and Carol had some that were definitely
lamb) with lots of lime leaves (better with the coconut
rice from one of the other stations than with the same old
fried rice), and chicken with lime leaves turned out to be
a baked chili-lime juice chicken senza lime leaves, also
decent. I also tried chicken adobo (quite good) and a spare
rib with mojo sauce (too sweet, but ok) from the Caribbean
station.

Carol had a quite savory laksa, disappointingly without
noodles but with bits of conch in with the more usual
assortment of fish, and an overcooked but tasty leg of
lamb with apple-pear balsamic sauce.

I decided to scope out the dessert situation. A blueberry
tart was weird - somewhat undersweetened and I believe
milk-free, the substrate being what seemed to me to be
pure beaten eggs; peanut butter chocolate tart was
surprisingly edible. Carol warned me that the eclair was
sugarless; so I had to try it just because: turned out to
be not bad at all, not cloyingly sweet, and the artificial
ingredients not too obtrusive. Rice pudding was heavily
cinnamoned and not too sweet either. There were also Boston
cream cake (renamed no doubt for the Southern clientele,
who have strong ideas about what should and should not be
called pie) and an assortment of cookies, which we didn't
try. On the way out, we were accosted by our sub-waiter
Gregory, who had impressed us by knowing our names on the
very first night. He strongly encouraged us to go off and
visit the island. We didn't, instead just walking around
the ship and then looking at the lightning and choppy seas.

Lightning! Choppy seas! Good thing we didn't go out. Around
mid-afternoon, the tenders started bringing people back, and
they were chock-full. We'd taken a pause at one of the deck
chair areas and heard a bit of a ruckus ... one of the small
ships was unable to line up with ours, and although this was
rectified without damage to anyone within fifteen minutes or
so, the next ferry, unable to dock, had to sit unattached
while we had an enormous cloudburst. Carol looked over and
said "come here, quick!" We looked down. The open upper deck
was a squirming mass of humanity, covered as best it could
by now-soaked beach towels, so all you could see was this
rippling beige organism. I accused her of Schadenfreude, but
in reality the sight was pretty funny in itself. Luckily the
electrical activity was a good distance away. We returned
to look at the light show periodically through the evening.

The show at the Follies Theater was called Dancing with the
Movies, featuring the Royal Caribbean singers and dancers
and a professional but bored-sounding 7-piece jazz band. I
didn't relate to it at all, but at least the hoofers showed
some energy and in fact were enjoyable to watch.

After this, the main event.

We had a bottle of Codorniu Cava, after Carol vetoed my
choice as too sweet and I vetoed hers as too expensive.
It was a clean, lightish wine, well made, good with her
food.

Which was onion soup (too sweet, otherwise ok) followed by
orecchiette with salmon vodka cream (made with medium shells
instead of the advertised pasta, otherwise acceptable).

I asked our waiter if the roast turkey with all the fixings
could be ordered as dark meat. He said he'd check. If no, I
replied, I'll have the New York steak, no Bearnaise, rare.

No appetizer for me, which was a good thing.

Gerland came back with a plate well filled with turkey. It
was a ballottine of drumstick and thigh meat in a sweet
brown gravy, accompanied with an ocean of mashed potatoes, a
scoop of (also somewhat sweet) stuffing, and a weird little
patty of celery and onion mixed with white meat trimmings.
Very crunchy broccoli on the side. As I was tucking in to
this abundance, Gerland slid another plate to my side. I
also got you a steak, he said. Can you say working for tips,
thought I. The steak was a supermarket sirloin strip, about
8 oz, so too thin to be any good for rare. I had a few bites
of it. If it had been an excellent steak I might have
finished it, or if there hadn't been a massive turkey dinner
staring me in the face at the same time.

With my mains I had a glass of Beaujolais Laboure-Roi,
vintage if any unknown, light, pleasantly tropical fruited.
I'd ordered it with the turkey in mind, but an underlying
tannin made it okay with the steak as well.

Desserts were Key lime pie and chocolate brownie cake. Carol
ordered the former. I ordered nothing. The latter came. It
was actually the best thing, aside from the Carol's elbows
and maybe the Beaujolais, on the table.

Bolero is a Latin-themed bar amidships on the promenade
deck. It's a fairly pleasant space.

I'd wanted to check out the Dueling Pianos (parental
discretion advised) - these turned out to be two middle-
aged guys, both of whom played the piano reasonably well
and neither of whom could sing worth a lick, essentially
doing two-piano versions of various songs (they did take
requests, though, for $5 and up). No dueling except in the
banter between numbers. The act was on the whole annoying.

Carol ordered a mojito, which to my unexperienced palate
was perfectly fine and which actually had a fair amount
of fresh chopped mint in it.

I had a Sauza Commemorativo, a buck more than most of the
other beverages available; what came was distinctly not
that, but a fairly tasty silver tequila with a touch of
citrus note in with the spice and vegetalness; so I stole
the shot glass (worth about 25c) instead of hassling it out
with the cocktail waitress.

We left after one round, as Larry and Harry or whatever
their names were were howling out a ditty called the Tube
Steak Rag or something like that (hence the parental
discretion warning, I guess).

More romantic but soggy walking on the deck in what we'd
imagined would be moonlight, but what ended up being mostly
a combination of distant lightning and a shooting star or
two where the clouds had broken.

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