“If you want good paella, Venezuela is the place to be.”
Luis said to me as we walked into the breezy seaside restaurant off the coast of Macuto beach. “You don’t get better anywhere else. This is food paradise!”
I laughed at his self-assurance. “Whatever happened to Valencia or San Sebastian?”
He winked at me. “You see for yourself!”
From the moment I had arrived at the port in La Guairá, Luis had insisted that he take me out for paella, ignoring my protests that I had already eaten a light lunch on the cruise.
“Already eaten? What sort of excuse is that?” He grinned. “No such thing as too much food.”
Knowing that he would never give in, I had finally agreed.
The restaurant was laidback and breezy, with nautical accents lining its pastel yellow walls. Crisp white linen and glassware were laid out smartly over tartan tablecloths, and the low wooden ceilings gave the place a touch of warmth.
I ordered a passion fruit juice, and let Luis order the rest. The food was served to us within minutes of each other in a parade that seemed to never end. First came the salad and bread rolls, then the filet mignon, mashed potatoes, sautéed mushrooms, and finally the steaming paella in all of its saffron glory. Mounted on a hot plate with herbs, peppers, and everything from lobster to squid rings to crispy shrimp, the paella was a seafood lover’s paradise. The waiter seasoned the dish in front of us, grinding some pepper and sea salt, adding a dash of olive oil and pouring a generous amount of white wine over the whole concoction. A wonderful aromatic gust of steam rose up, making my mouth water in anticipation.
The paella did not disappoint. After the first bite, all of my initial skepticism had melted away. By the second and third bite, I had become a complete convert. Unlike the somewhat watery texture of the paella I had previously tasted, this one stimulated my senses with various textures, excited my taste buds with the intricate mixture of flavors. When the richness of the paella became too much, a sip of the cool, sweet parchita juice would refresh me and leave me ready for another bite. To top off the entire experience, we had some mousse de parchita and con leche grande. The mousse was light and revitalizing after the heavy main courses. It was a perfect concluding note to the meal.
The car ride back to the hotel was quiet with the dormancy that results from extreme contentment. Luis and I stared out of the window hazily.
“Luis,” I called, breaking the silence. He turned.
“You were right about the paella.”
He winked at me, and continued to look out of the window.
Planning a trip to Venezuela and want to have the same experience? Follow the restaurant: El Mesón del Faro on Facebook.
Article written by Chihiro Isozaki.
