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Ramon's Village

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eviet
eviet
First Reviewer
5 out of 5
Avg. Member Rating
1
Review
3
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Ramon's Village

  • October 21, 2006
  • Rated 5 of 5 by eviet from Brooklyn, New York
Ramon's Village

Walking into Ramon’s Village, I was transported to ‘90s reality-show Temptation Island, the first season of which was coincidentally filmed right here on Ambergris Caye. A pseudo-Mayan head greeted above the archway, and neon lights lined the pathway to the resort’s restaurant. The farther we went, the louder the live island music became, and once inside, a peek at the indoor dining area revealed a mock jungle landscape atop a wall, a second towering head as its centerpiece.

What would be a nauseating, gimmicky atmosphere in New York was a fun, lively one in San Pedro. Even at our table, Mayan tiki heads appeared by way of salt and pepper shakers, while pale-pink wood and ocean-blue cushions formed the throne-like chairs. Instead of blasé fake flowers, a wooden sculpture of leaves and petals sat on the tabletop. Plates of golden yellow and frayed orange napkins complemented the tropical accents.

Suddenly, an abundance of food appeared around us. A salad of lettuce, tomatoes, onions, and olives appeared on one side of the table, while a waiter placed a straw bowl of jalapeno bread on the other. In the middle, the wood flowers were traded for an intricate cantaloupe arrangement surrounded by watermelon, orange, pineapple, and cherry. I barely knew what to eat, much less drink, but settled on the house special to wash it all down: the dark rum, Kahlua, coconut cream, and pineapple juice of the Purple Parrot. Thick and frothy, it provided a rich alternative to the week’s punches and daiquiris.

Three trays of fish, shrimp, and pork chops arrived at once, family style. After scooping up the shrimp in a pepper-and-onion sauce, I maneuvered around the cantaloupe artwork for the pork. Gorging on fish all week had depleted my taste for fillets, and the pork’s apple-and-cinnamon topping demanded immediate sampling—that of four or five pieces. I did end up adding a sliver of fish to my plate, and an abundance of garlic and butter practically reversed my previous sentiment.

Throughout the meal, staff swarmed. I possessed a vague idea of who held the official title of waiter, but various staff inquired about our enjoyment, removed empty dishes, and brought new plates as needed. They moved the food quickly but not hurriedly, allowing the proper amount of savoring. In Belize, there is no rush.

From journal South of the (Mexico) Border

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