Nearby, a man in his 20s offers equally valuable advice to his
pale-faced girlfriend.
"Heck, just hold the baitfish out and close your eyes."
In the green waters just off the dock, the tarpon soar. They're
beautiful - dragons, shaped like torpedoes, rising from the water
with a flash of silver, then falling back, unblinking, with the
requisite baitfish and occasionally a piece of knuckle.
During the hour we spend at Robbie's, a steady stream of
bucket-toting tourists plod out to the dock. This is Keys
entrepreneurship at its finest.
"Definitely not a chain," says Chris, as we pull away.
Another great thing about eating in the Keys is - how to
phrase this in proper epicurean terms? - the
food is cheap. If
three dollars for a bowl of conch chowder is too pricey, well, 25
cents will buy you a coconut at a roadside stand. Like us, you can
down mermaid's popcorn (deep-fried popcorn shrimp) and crack conch
sandwiches on any number of listing wood decks, then dine on clams
caribe (angel-hair pasta liberally doused with littlenecks in a red
broth with island spices) at Kelly's Caribbean Bar/Grill &
Brewery.
Kelly's is in Key West, which, along with several fistfuls of
first-rate restaurants, is also home to the famed Mallory
Square.
This is where I find myself on our final night, and as I take in a
sunset, accompanied by the square's barking sword swallowers,
chained Houdinis, fire jugglers, and an uncanny number of
sixty-something men in shorts and black socks, I realize that I
could be sad at the thought of returning home - but I'm not,
because now, on my return trip, I know where to stop for a fish
sandwich, blackened just so, topped with a Havana Red
Ale and an
ocean breeze.
in between eating …
in between eating …