By David Minsky
By Nicole Danna
By Sara Ventiera
By Candace West
By Emily Dabau
By Doug Fairall
By Candace West
By Laine Doss
I agree up to a point. When traveling, I've had some terrific meals in rather unappetizing surroundings. I've also eaten fine repasts in gorgeous settings. Plenty of Caribbean restaurants are indeed informal and often filled with surprises, such as roaches scuttling across the floor. But for the sake of adventure, I can live with the fact that restaurateurs in Third World countries simply don't have the resources to, say, hire an exterminator.
What irks me is that dirty has become synonymous with delicious in the United States; I know some diners who simply don't trust bright, clean Caribbean places. But no restaurant, I believe, should be excused from meeting the common standards of upkeep in the name of authenticity. Informal, fine. Bare bones, OK. I've got nothing against low-budget dives. But decrepit -- which is how I'd describe more than a few of the island restaurants I've walked into, and out of, these past few months -- pushes acceptable limits. Fortunately, two area restaurants have restored my faith in relaxing, informal, and decidedly nonseedy Caribbean dining.
In Davie the four-month-old Carib Palace, owned by Zalina and Gobin Dyal -- from Trinidad and Guyana, respectively -- offers a very pleasant atmosphere free, for the most part, of island-decor cliches. Located next to Nova Southeastern University's main campus, the 100-seat, pink-and-white restaurant features linens on the tables, framed artwork on the scalloped walls, and a small bar decorated with baskets of faux greenery. (A small, twinkling disco ball and a prominent TV were the only discordant notes; but then again, we got to see Wheel of Fortune.) Despite the soft decor, the West Indian fare is every bit as spicy and reasonably priced as if Davie were in the Caribbean. With one exception: Carib Palace is immaculate.
The limited menu -- four appetizers and a dozen or so entrees -- reads like a Reader's Digest account of the multiethnic heritage of Trinidad and Guyana. For example, roti, the specialty main course of the house, speaks to Trinidad's Indian population. A large, flat pancake of bread, the roti was mildly spiced and served warm and buttery in a basket. On a separate plate, tender beef tidbits (chicken and goat are also available) in a zingy, cumin-scented sauce were paired with a side dish of potatoes and chickpeas. Rolled with the savory beef and potatoes, the roti was delicious, especially when dabbed with a Scotch bonnet chili-pepper sauce, served judiciously on the side.
Curried goat, another succulent entree, contained just about every spice Columbus discovered when he accidentally stumbled upon the islands (and thus established culinary trade routes). Cloaked in a brown gravy, the stewed goat was neither stringy nor gamy. A huge scoop of vegetable fried rice, rife with scallions, bean sprouts, and egg but light on the soy sauce, was just the right kind of starch to soak up the sauce. Contributed by the Chinese-Caribbean community, the rice may also be ordered as a main dish, in which it's dotted with beef, chicken, or shrimp.
All three ingredients were crowded into the soup of the day, a sort of hot pot every Trinidadian constantly has cooking on the back burner. Zalina Dyal told us that her mother used to throw into the pot whatever leftovers were handy; at Carib Palace, the Trinidadian and Guyanese cooks start off with fresh ingredients. Along with generous cuts of meat, poultry, and medium-size shrimp, chunks of yuca, potatoes, and carrots thickened the peppery broth. The highlight was the homemade dumplings.
An appetizer of potato balls, the other house specialty, comes from Guyana. Half a dozen peppery, minced potato fritters were lightly fried but seemingly greaseless, and delicate on the inside. For zest, a habanero chili sauce, spiked further with vinegar, soy sauce, cumin, and black pepper, was handy for a dunk or two.
Carib Palace was out of its homemade fruit tart the night we visited, offering instead a cheesecake made elsewhere. Like typical island-hoppers, who prefer to gnaw on a piece of refreshing tropical fruit or, if it's available, a length of sugar cane, we skipped the heavy dessert.
We had to do the same at Seafood World, a Bahamian restaurant in Lighthouse Point, where cheesecake, key lime pie, and tiramisu fill out the dessert menu. The location is also very non-Caribbean: a strip mall just off busy North Federal Highway, where cars, instead of mosquitoes, buzz by. More rustic in design than Carib Palace, the 25-year-old restaurant has planked floors, fish-shaped place mats, stained glass depicting various forms of sea life, and plastic dishware. Still, the place falls into the finer-dining category asfar as Caribbean restaurants are concerned. Owned by Hugh and Joy Ganter, the restaurant owes its elevated status to three things: Bahamian chef Richard Oelkuct, who cooks fish and shellfish with panache; a menu offering native and nonnative seafood; and decidedly upscale prices.