By Rosemary Parkinson, Freelance Writer 
Above: The West Indian Market Salad comes with a choice of roasted onion and anchovy dressing, mango vinaigrette or oil and vinegar. - Photo By Rosemary Parkinson
Otaheite Restaurant, Couples Negril
Norman Manley Boulevard, Negril. Phone: 957-5960
Reservations: Needed three days in advance. Open every day, except Monday.
Hotel night pass: US$75, valid from 6:00 p.m. to midnight -- includes dinner, bar and partying at other hotel venues.
I STARTED a serious diet on Monday -- Dr. Atkins' Revolutionary Diet, my favourite.
From the time this book hit the stands in the '70s, poor Dr. Atkins got it from the medical world -- pros and cons ran wild right up to his death a few weeks ago. Funny, he died from a coma (slipped on ice outside his office in New York) and not from the controversial complications allegedly associated with the Atkins Diet. I have been using this diet for almost 30 years to lose poundage and me ent dead yet.
Then, having decided to start my diet, Paul Issa (Wendy's) suggested Otaheite Restaurant at Couples Negril for a review. Now there's a challenge, thought I deciding to take along a friend who is also on the Atkins Diet. Easy Peasy to eat 'gourmet' with no 'carbs'.
We were welcomed and seated by Mr. GQ himself, Glenroy, the Maitre D' (all decked off in perfectly fitting suit). My ears were immediately treated to the most incredible violin, played by Kingsley De Pass. God, how I love a violin. I looked around the stately circular Otaheite room. It has one large round table set off by an enchanting chandelier in the centre and, moving toward the outer windows, another circle of tables for four. Plus, right around the inside windows, there are tables for two built to face the whole room. Different.
Water poured, the Wine Steward offered a selection of wines and 'champers'. I knew that a glass of dry bubbly was a kind of a 'nono'... but? So it was a Kraemer Blanc de Blanc (not champagne, but a sparkling wine) served chilled to perdition. Hmmm, hmmm good. The house wines, by the way, are Cepages, Robert Giraud 2001 Merlot and Chardonnay.
Presented with the menu and a basket of bread, we began our quest for 'allowed' foods. We requested that the bread be removed but Stanley our waiter seemed reluctant, so we nonchalantly said, "No problem". Diet is diet and nothing would make us break it tonight.
A SLIP OF THE FINGERS BROUGHT THE DIET CRASHING DOWN
For an appetiser, I chose Carpaccio of Caribbean Blue Marlin with pesto-caper vinaigrette and crisp salad leaves. It was a perfect start, no carbs here. Melony, my friend, had the spiced local Crab Cakes, finished with a tangy sweet and sour sauce. Knowing the sweet and sour sauce would be problematic it was to be left out. While chatting away, my eyes (not listening to the brain) hovered over the basket of bread. Suddenly my fingers opened the little napkin and next thing I knew a warm tantalising buttery freshly baked roll covered in sunflower seeds was you-know-where. An immediate diet crash -- all caution thrown to the wind. Mi friend glared at mi but, hello, 'twas not my fault. 'Twas dem fingers dat lost control.
My Carpaccio was 'sehr gute', delicate -- a great opening. Melony's Crab Cakes was spicy, but missing the sweet and sour sauce. She looked at me over her nose. "I at least stick to my guns."
For soup, I had the Rocky Point Shrimp Bisque infused with orange and dry sherry and served with a Parmesan Stick and the dieter -- Bloody Bay Cappuccino of Tomato, sour cream and allspice with thin strips of jerk sausage. When the bowls arrived, mine had only a dash of whipped cream and Parmesan Sticks within. We both wondered about the 'forgotten' liquid but, quick as a flash, Stanley was there gently pouring the Bisque. Sweet. Both these soups triumphed and I was dancing with the moon. I just looove excellence and was pleased as punch that I had thrown all caution to the wind -- Dr. Atkins would have to wait for me (yet again) in heaven.
A couple sitting at the table beside ours nudged each other, looked across and smiled knowingly. Couples (the name of the hotel) means exactly that -- only couples, whispered Melony. I guess the obvious presumption was we were one too! No Sah! Not me in dat. We giggled mercilessly at all the connotations and when duty manager Alrica McFarlane came to check on us we described the scenario. She was amused as well, explaining that yes, that's what Couples hotel is all about and we were indeed an unusual pair. So there you go -- if you want to stay at Couples (and I hear it is fabulous) go as a 'normal' couple -- do.
Next I had crisp romaine lettuce with orange and Feta cheese tossed in Gorgonzola-citrus dressing. Excellent! What a way Stefan Spath, the chef from Deutschland (Germany) has with dressings. Lordy, Lordy. To die for. Mi friend went to market and had West Indian Market Salad, which came with a choice of roasted onion and anchovy dressing, mango vinaigrette or oil and vinegar. Can't remember her choice, but the look of sheer joy on her face said it all. Stunning presentation. Pretty you see, just like a market basket.
ON CLOUD NINE
Broiled filet of Pacific Salmon with Moroccan Salsa on lime beurre blanc (white butter) was next for me. It was Grilled Pimento Marinated Beef Tenderloin drizzled with spicy Vietnamese honey-soy syrup on sautéed wilted greens for Miss Goodie Two Shoes who refused the sauce. "Well, I can keep my end of the bargain," said Miss She.
Did I care? I was on cloud nine. Amazing food, great service (even though the place was packed to the brim) and that sexy violin music. Hello. Hello. Need I say more, except "wish I was with a man?". Oh, and if you see Stanley, Fe you please -- presenting the food a la Shaggy from Grand Lid. Only difference, no white gloves. Oh, yes, the entrees were served under large silver cover which was removed with tip top flair, a shuffle of the feet, a big smile, a bow and an "enjoy".
God is good. There is hope for our Jamaica. What a joy to be pampered so.
Now, for the devils themselves -- desserts. My diet gone with the wind with nub bread and champagne, I went with Mocha Pan Coffee, spiked with Blue Mountain coffee and served in a pool of raspberry coulees. That was it. 'Madame-Dear-Diary-She-Made-Me-Do-It' grabbed the menu, promptly ordering warm Ginger-Coconut Bread Pudding smothered with Amarillo Butterscotch Sauce and today's ice cream. 'Twas only a second it took for that decision and my look brought about this comment: "Well, I said don't put in the butterscotch, I am being a good girl and I did last longer than you did."
I have news for Miss Melony Soybeans -- that space of time between diet and dessert without butterscotch lost her no pounds.
Rosemary Parkinson wishes all mothers, especially hers in Barbados, much blessings this Sunday. Pay special attention to your mom this weekend, she is the essence of the world.
