Author - Grant
Based In - Key West, Florida
Mildly Interesting Fact - We're closer to Cuba than mainland USA (a poxy 90 miles)
Childish Fact - America and Cuba aren't speaking cos Cuba spilt America's pint
Photo’s Link - http://www.flickr.com/photos/32017704@N03/sets/72157612838157269/
First and foremost I think it’s important to apologise for the previous lazy ass blog entry by my traveling companion. Under considerable pressure, she had agreed to write the blog on the first day we arrived in Key West but clearly this town’s relaxed atmosphere penetrated her soul quicker than any of us expected resulting in a clerical list of actions rather than any sort of descriptive entry. I can’t complain, however, as I too have been dragged in by the relaxing nature of Key West and hence haven’t bothered writing anything for the past few days. So hopefully this entry will summarise the highlights of our stay before we start heading north frighteningly early tomorrow morning.
First thing to note is that we have to head north tomorrow beca
use the simply is no more south left to explore. Well, no more US south that is. As you can imagine, this is a fact that is heavily exploited here with the obligatory buoy denoting the absolute southern most point which has a line of people waiting to get the obligatory photo op despite not actually being at the southern most tip of the country. Still, it’s close enough. I was exploring on my own when I first came across the buoy which may explain why I have absolutely no idea who the people are posing next to it as I was far too embarrassed to stand in line alone and ask a stranger to take a photo of my sorry, lonely ass. The surroundings all claim to be the southernmost something including the southernmost hotel, guest house, deli, house, bar, beach, beach bar but my favourite is the southernmost southernmost house which, I hope you will agree, is clearly the most southernmost house because of its repetitive description.
Kate adhered to this town’s quirkiness in her previous blo
g but nowhere is this more apparent than in the cemetery. Rather than being a somber, sad place, it is laced with comedy epitaphs such as “I always dreamed of owing a small place in Key West”, “X – Dig Here”, I told you I was ill” and “I’m just resting my eyes”. This is a town that is clearly proud of it’s wackiness which, it has to be said, walks a fine line between funny and tacky. On one hand there is the cemetery and signs like the one outside Bourbon St Bar which reads “On this site in 1897 nothing happened” which is al pretty amusing. On the other hand there are the t-shirt shops sporting such super-tack as “My Pen In Huge”, “I got Duval Faced on Shit Street” and “From My Space to My Face” which is a bit cringeable.
I realise that I haven’t really said much about what we have done but that is mainly because we haven’t really done much. Most days have involved some sort of exercise, walking the pup (who is now fully mobile following her two week vet ordered rest period) then finding a scenic bar overlooking the sea to spend the afternoon getting slowly tipsy sipping on cocktails/wine/beer whilst reading a fine book or ogling sunbathers boob jobs. Despite this seemingly event-free existence, time has
absolutely flown by and it seems to have turned dark in the blink of an eye. However, unlike most other town’s we have visited in the last ten weeks, this place certainly doesn’t sleep when the sun goes down. In fact, it takes on yet another bunch of different personas. Let’s get the bad persona out of the way first. At 5pm every night a collection of touristy shows start down in the marina involving street performers…and it’s predictably horrible. Luckily however, you’re only a fire-juggler’s broken arm away from the numerous bars along Duval Street. During the day, these bars are fairly indistinguishable from one another but at night each bar takes on it’s own character. There are a good smattering of gay bars (apparently 40% of the permanent population here is gay), some margarita bars attracting the grey and blue topped clientele and then (my fave) a huge number of live music bars. Our favourite was Hog’s Breath which has a two man band called the Massaccustics playing who were either fantastic or the cocktails were particularly string because one of their CDs was in my pocket the following morning. There are plenty of other decent bars I would recommend but I would have to drag you there by the elbow as I can’t remember their names. Oh, except the Green Parrott which is a little off the beaten track (i.e. NOT on Duval Street) where you’ll be rewarded with a good selection of bar games and a more local feeling crowd.
Final (yet most important thing) to report on is the food. Gener
ally we have been culinarily pampered here with local specialties and regional influences executed with authenticity. We are flanked by the Atlantic and the Gulf of Mexico so, predictably, the seafood is mighty fine, even in the bars where we had a fantastic platter of locally caught tiger shrimp. The local insistence on calling the Mahi-Mahi “dolphin” is confusing as it is both inaccurate and, in all seriousness, a bit off-putting to the average customer who doesn’t want to eat the cast of the little mermaid. The best we had was at the Caribbean inspired Blue Heaven which is generally considered the best offering in town. Kate’s yellow snapper in a lemon accented beurre blanc with angel hair pasta was nearly as good as my blackened, sesame seed crusted grouper with brown rice in a coconut milk and ginger broth. Their setting is also pretty special as usually the dining is done in the yard where the chickens run free (as they do all over town) but it was a bit brass monkey the night we went so dinner was in the tree-house.
Definitely worth a mention is the Creperie run by a crazy
yet lovely French lady who slams out sweet and savoury crepes to adoring hoards of on-lookers who are there half for the food and half for the show. A favourite of ours was Louie’s Backyard which we found due to it’s location backing on to the tiny dog-friendly beach. They throw out a decent enough selection of lunch staples but it’s the well spun cocktails and the unbeatable setting (on the southern side of the island and protected from the arctic wind currently passing through Florida) that keep you here for hours.
First and foremost I think it’s important to apologise for the previous lazy ass blog entry by my traveling companion. Under considerable pressure, she had agreed to write the blog on the first day we arrived in Key West but clearly this town’s relaxed atmosphere penetrated her soul quicker than any of us expected resulting in a clerical list of actions rather than any sort of descriptive entry. I can’t complain, however, as I too have been dragged in by the relaxing nature of Key West and hence haven’t bothered writing anything for the past few days. So hopefully this entry will summarise the highlights of our stay before we start heading north frighteningly early tomorrow morning.
First thing to note is that we have to head north tomorrow beca
use the simply is no more south left to explore. Well, no more US south that is. As you can imagine, this is a fact that is heavily exploited here with the obligatory buoy denoting the absolute southern most point which has a line of people waiting to get the obligatory photo op despite not actually being at the southern most tip of the country. Still, it’s close enough. I was exploring on my own when I first came across the buoy which may explain why I have absolutely no idea who the people are posing next to it as I was far too embarrassed to stand in line alone and ask a stranger to take a photo of my sorry, lonely ass. The surroundings all claim to be the southernmost something including the southernmost hotel, guest house, deli, house, bar, beach, beach bar but my favourite is the southernmost southernmost house which, I hope you will agree, is clearly the most southernmost house because of its repetitive description.Kate adhered to this town’s quirkiness in her previous blo
g but nowhere is this more apparent than in the cemetery. Rather than being a somber, sad place, it is laced with comedy epitaphs such as “I always dreamed of owing a small place in Key West”, “X – Dig Here”, I told you I was ill” and “I’m just resting my eyes”. This is a town that is clearly proud of it’s wackiness which, it has to be said, walks a fine line between funny and tacky. On one hand there is the cemetery and signs like the one outside Bourbon St Bar which reads “On this site in 1897 nothing happened” which is al pretty amusing. On the other hand there are the t-shirt shops sporting such super-tack as “My Pen In Huge”, “I got Duval Faced on Shit Street” and “From My Space to My Face” which is a bit cringeable.I realise that I haven’t really said much about what we have done but that is mainly because we haven’t really done much. Most days have involved some sort of exercise, walking the pup (who is now fully mobile following her two week vet ordered rest period) then finding a scenic bar overlooking the sea to spend the afternoon getting slowly tipsy sipping on cocktails/wine/beer whilst reading a fine book or ogling sunbathers boob jobs. Despite this seemingly event-free existence, time has
absolutely flown by and it seems to have turned dark in the blink of an eye. However, unlike most other town’s we have visited in the last ten weeks, this place certainly doesn’t sleep when the sun goes down. In fact, it takes on yet another bunch of different personas. Let’s get the bad persona out of the way first. At 5pm every night a collection of touristy shows start down in the marina involving street performers…and it’s predictably horrible. Luckily however, you’re only a fire-juggler’s broken arm away from the numerous bars along Duval Street. During the day, these bars are fairly indistinguishable from one another but at night each bar takes on it’s own character. There are a good smattering of gay bars (apparently 40% of the permanent population here is gay), some margarita bars attracting the grey and blue topped clientele and then (my fave) a huge number of live music bars. Our favourite was Hog’s Breath which has a two man band called the Massaccustics playing who were either fantastic or the cocktails were particularly string because one of their CDs was in my pocket the following morning. There are plenty of other decent bars I would recommend but I would have to drag you there by the elbow as I can’t remember their names. Oh, except the Green Parrott which is a little off the beaten track (i.e. NOT on Duval Street) where you’ll be rewarded with a good selection of bar games and a more local feeling crowd.Final (yet most important thing) to report on is the food. Gener
ally we have been culinarily pampered here with local specialties and regional influences executed with authenticity. We are flanked by the Atlantic and the Gulf of Mexico so, predictably, the seafood is mighty fine, even in the bars where we had a fantastic platter of locally caught tiger shrimp. The local insistence on calling the Mahi-Mahi “dolphin” is confusing as it is both inaccurate and, in all seriousness, a bit off-putting to the average customer who doesn’t want to eat the cast of the little mermaid. The best we had was at the Caribbean inspired Blue Heaven which is generally considered the best offering in town. Kate’s yellow snapper in a lemon accented beurre blanc with angel hair pasta was nearly as good as my blackened, sesame seed crusted grouper with brown rice in a coconut milk and ginger broth. Their setting is also pretty special as usually the dining is done in the yard where the chickens run free (as they do all over town) but it was a bit brass monkey the night we went so dinner was in the tree-house.Definitely worth a mention is the Creperie run by a crazy
yet lovely French lady who slams out sweet and savoury crepes to adoring hoards of on-lookers who are there half for the food and half for the show. A favourite of ours was Louie’s Backyard which we found due to it’s location backing on to the tiny dog-friendly beach. They throw out a decent enough selection of lunch staples but it’s the well spun cocktails and the unbeatable setting (on the southern side of the island and protected from the arctic wind currently passing through Florida) that keep you here for hours. I nearly forgot to mention conch fritters which appear on every menu in Key West. They are basically a crab-cake but replace the crab with conch...the tropical gastropod best known for it's spiral shell that doubles as a horn. Whilst the quality varies from venue to venue, they are generally a really tasty snack with the tiny pieces of conch adding more texture (a bite not dissimilar to soft bone) than taste.
Oh, and we saw Michael Ruhlman here; the guy who is wrongly most famous for being the nemesis of Anthony Bourdain but should be known for being a mighty fine culinary author. I went a little weak-kneed like a school-girl backstage at an N-Sync concert as I’m always a little star-struck on such occasions.
Oh, and we saw Michael Ruhlman here; the guy who is wrongly most famous for being the nemesis of Anthony Bourdain but should be known for being a mighty fine culinary author. I went a little weak-kneed like a school-girl backstage at an N-Sync concert as I’m always a little star-struck on such occasions.
So, in summary, good times were definitely had in Key West. However, as per the rest of Florida, I’m not sure I could live here as it all seems like short-term, unsustainable enjoyment. Add the fact that it gets unbearably hot and is filled with mozzies in the summer and I’m not too sad that we are heading northbound tomorrow morning. Apparently Kate had signed us up for a run over a bridge in Saratosa which is nearly 400 miles north of here. Apparently this trip isn’t all fun fun fun…
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