Dining at Iberostar Playa Paraiso Maya
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Juliana had a dozen restaurant menus ready. Every one looked tempting. We got a reservation for 9PM that night at the Iberostar Paraiso Maya's French restaurant, L'Etoile. For the following night, we selected the seafood restaurant, La Marina, also at 9. (For us, a romantic getaway means late-night candlelit dinners.)
Hungry, we hightailed it a few steps away to El Fogon, a palapa-roofed buffet-style restaurant with breezy tables indoors and outdoors.
We scouted the buffet offerings and reported back to each other in amazement.
"Did you see the tacos being made to order?" I asked Richard. He answered me with, "Did you see those gigantic grilled shrimp?" Then we both spotted the chile pepper bar and nearly fell down.
We live for chile peppers, and here was a hit parade: smoky dried chipotles and banana-sized dried guajillos, deep red anchos, mild poblanos, medium-hot green jalapeños, fiery little serranos, and—the emperor of chilies—the hottest plant on earth, habañero peppers, which you can't even touch, because if you touch your eyes you will cry for hours. We were in chile heaven.
We got trays and heaped them with those ultra-fresh grilled shrimp; minced scallops in half a ripe avocado; and a taco made to order, with sliced barbecued pork, salsa, pineapple chunks, mild white Mexican cheese, guacamole, and an assortment of peppers. A waiter brought us a round of margaritas, and we were in business.
We vowed to work off our late lunch, and work our appetites back up, on the beach. We changed into our suits and claimed two beach chairs under a palapa.
The Caribbean was calm, so we rented—free, of course—a two-seater kayak. We managed to paddle down the beach a ways and make it back—a romantic getaway of sorts.
Richard got us icy mineral water from the bar, settled on his lounge chair and passed out. I figured he'd had a guacamole-topped burger at the snack bar.
I took a little nature walk and spotted lizards and gaily hued tropical birds. Adorable ring-tailed coatimundis—cat-sized Central American raccoons—frolicked in the trees bordering the beach.
I read and Richard dozed on the beach until twilight, when it was time to get ready for dinner at L'Etoile. Juliana had said it was very nice, so I put on high-heeled sandals and red lipstick. Juliana was right; L'Etoile was as elegant as a Parisian brasserie.
In fact, its design echoes Toulouse-Lautrec and Renoir paintings of Parisian restaurants of the Belle Epoque era. L'Etoile was wonderfully atmospheric, and our lamb chops and robust Spanish wine were exceptional. Richard and I were the last to leave.
Walking "home," we stopped at the outdoor birdcage to watch the feathered couples flirting and nesting.
One night at El Museo, an Iberostar gourmet restaurant flaunting marvelous copies of Van Goghs, Monets and--this is Mexico--Frida Kahlos, I paused over my tender filet mignon and asked Richard if we could start planning our next anniversary getaway at the Iberostar. Richard looked at me the same curious way our Siamese cat does when I don goofy sunglasses. "I thought we already decided that," my husband said.
Juliana had a dozen restaurant menus ready. Every one looked tempting. We got a reservation for 9PM that night at the Iberostar Paraiso Maya's French restaurant, L'Etoile. For the following night, we selected the seafood restaurant, La Marina, also at 9. (For us, a romantic getaway means late-night candlelit dinners.)
Hungry, we hightailed it a few steps away to El Fogon, a palapa-roofed buffet-style restaurant with breezy tables indoors and outdoors.
We scouted the buffet offerings and reported back to each other in amazement.
"Did you see the tacos being made to order?" I asked Richard. He answered me with, "Did you see those gigantic grilled shrimp?" Then we both spotted the chile pepper bar and nearly fell down.
We live for chile peppers, and here was a hit parade: smoky dried chipotles and banana-sized dried guajillos, deep red anchos, mild poblanos, medium-hot green jalapeños, fiery little serranos, and—the emperor of chilies—the hottest plant on earth, habañero peppers, which you can't even touch, because if you touch your eyes you will cry for hours. We were in chile heaven.
We got trays and heaped them with those ultra-fresh grilled shrimp; minced scallops in half a ripe avocado; and a taco made to order, with sliced barbecued pork, salsa, pineapple chunks, mild white Mexican cheese, guacamole, and an assortment of peppers. A waiter brought us a round of margaritas, and we were in business.
Eat, Drink, and Be Merrier
Dinner was just a few hours away.We vowed to work off our late lunch, and work our appetites back up, on the beach. We changed into our suits and claimed two beach chairs under a palapa.
The Caribbean was calm, so we rented—free, of course—a two-seater kayak. We managed to paddle down the beach a ways and make it back—a romantic getaway of sorts.
Richard got us icy mineral water from the bar, settled on his lounge chair and passed out. I figured he'd had a guacamole-topped burger at the snack bar.
I took a little nature walk and spotted lizards and gaily hued tropical birds. Adorable ring-tailed coatimundis—cat-sized Central American raccoons—frolicked in the trees bordering the beach.
I read and Richard dozed on the beach until twilight, when it was time to get ready for dinner at L'Etoile. Juliana had said it was very nice, so I put on high-heeled sandals and red lipstick. Juliana was right; L'Etoile was as elegant as a Parisian brasserie.
In fact, its design echoes Toulouse-Lautrec and Renoir paintings of Parisian restaurants of the Belle Epoque era. L'Etoile was wonderfully atmospheric, and our lamb chops and robust Spanish wine were exceptional. Richard and I were the last to leave.
Walking "home," we stopped at the outdoor birdcage to watch the feathered couples flirting and nesting.
Memorable Meals
All of our Paraiso Maya meals were memorable. At La Marina seafood restaurant, a sea-blue ceiling twinkled with iridescent seashells. We sampled the lavish appetizer bar and ordered a seafood "parillada"—mixed grill—cradling perfectly tender shrimp, calamari, mussels, snapper and sweet prawns as big as crayfish. At El Rancho steakhouse, we savored Argentinean-style grilled beef, excellent wine and extra-friendly service. And we worked out every day at the hotel gym.One night at El Museo, an Iberostar gourmet restaurant flaunting marvelous copies of Van Goghs, Monets and--this is Mexico--Frida Kahlos, I paused over my tender filet mignon and asked Richard if we could start planning our next anniversary getaway at the Iberostar. Richard looked at me the same curious way our Siamese cat does when I don goofy sunglasses. "I thought we already decided that," my husband said.