A farewell toast to the sun as it splashed into the ocean, Que te vaya bien. How childishly innocent were we to the sheer rapture of culinary excellence soon to overtake us…,
…starting with Pastel de Jaiba (Seasoned Crab) baked in the shell; Ostiones a la Parmesana (Baked Scallops in Parmesan Sauce); Jaiba Reina (Queen Crab); Carpaccio de Salmón Ahumado (Smoked Salmon Carpaccio) set off with capers, onions, and tomatoes (flare is key ;-); and Ensalada de Palmitos y Esparragos (Palm Hearts and Asparagus). Every now and then we are blessed to sit at a meal that is really not a meal, only tangentially related to food, but an adventure that we hope never ends, because every time the artist’s medium touches the tongue, spasms of delight erupt throughout our entire being. An experience created by a person who has mastered his craft and shares that mastery with us on a plate with the perfect wine to accompany. This was one of those adventures. Thanks to the good people of Hotel Isla Seca of Zapallar, Chile. We salute you.
The beautiful seaside paseo of Zapallar meandering through cacti…,
…beside crashing surf and tidal pools…,
…and towering cacti blooms.
And then we were gone. How could twenty four hours in one place ever be so magical?
We headed north for serious relaxation, though we weren’t sure how we would top Zapallar. A quick stop in Los Molles for some easy hiking through a preserve of sea cliffs and cactus, gulls and sea lions, to visit nearby…,
…Puquén, a blowhole erupting high in the rocks. Tidal surge forces air through a series of tunnels high into the rock cliffs where it explodes as a powerful blast of salty wet air, roaring louder than any of the sea lions on the rock island below. The force of air almost knocked me over in this picture. The few that exploded right after this picture was taken would have sent me into the rocks. Pretty cool for a hole in some rocks where air comes out.
We picked up some sun at Los Molles, continued north along the coast to Los Vilos. Still reeling from our dinner in Zapallar we went for it again figuring that the mariscos all come from the same ocean and should therefore be equally delicious wherever they were eaten. Well, Los Vilos is not Zapallar, and the restaurant where we ate is not Hotel Isla Seca. Needless to say, the mariscos fell short, which would have been bearable, but the plate of raw mariscos I ordered was not. I’ve never had a problem with raw seafood, but after a few bites something just didn’t feel right. It wasn’t that the mariscos weren’t fresh. They obviously were. I looked closer. Yes, they were fresh. “Still squirming” would be a better description. We sent them back to the kitchen to be “heated just a little,” and they returned in the far more palatable form of marisco soup.
The next morning we hiked along wind blown cliffs to a colony of 1,500 sea lions, lobos del mar, and headed to the Los Vilos fish mercado, where we opted to pass on the fresh ceviche being prepared as fresh as one could ever hope for at water’s edge. Our stomachs just weren’t in it. We did try the seafood empanadas and they were excellent.
next gallery
