Memories of

I somehow managed to resist the temptation to say "Bond...James Bond. I believe you have a reservation." Actually, the reservation for this May 3, 1993 date with Bondian history had been made through my travel agent three months earlier, leaving nothing to chance. Given the choice of dining indoors in the salon or outside on the lagoon, the decision was a no-brainer. As we were escorted through the salon and led to our outside table, I could have sworn John Barry's slow-waltz arrangement of "Mr. Kiss Kiss Bang Bang" was playing softly on the restaurant's music system. I could also have sworn it didn't stop for the entire one and three-quarter hours we spent there.

The view of the Paradise Island Lagoon from our table at Café Martinique. The red arrow indicates the dock (below) where Domino, Largo and Vargas boarded the launch to return to the Disco.

"Beluga caviar and Dom Perignon '53 please, or perhaps Cliquot Rosé..."
Actually, the bill of fare at this great eatery is quite extraordinary and, in fact, one potential selection was an ounce of Beluga caviar served with a cold glass of Stolichnaya (a $79.00 appetizer). Although Terence Young-or Mr Bond himself-would no doubt have approved of my selecting this or the Strasbourg foie gras (at $48.00), budgetary and practical considerations triumphed. The appetizer was one of which I felt Fleming himself-or the literary Bond-would still have approved; succulent Scottish smoked salmon served with capers, onions, lemon, and rye bread. This was followed by Salade César for two and our mouth-watering entrées, the exotically named Fruits de Mer Au Gratin En Casserole (lobster, scallops, shrimp and mushrooms glazed in a herb sauce) for madam, and my Macédoine de Poissons (a stew of lobster, grouper, snapper, mussels and vegetables in saffron broth) which reminded me irresistibly of the words of that old sage Marius, the taxi-driver from Marseilles-

"The saffron and the garlic, they are always the same. But you could eat pieces of a woman soaked in those and it would be good."

(On Her Majesty's Secret Service, Ch. 23, "Gauloises and Garlic")

Naturally, after such an exquisite meal, I had to venture into the casino across the street where, unfortunately, my luck did not hold. No room at the chemin de fer tables, so I reluctantly called it an evening after dropping $100 at the vingt-et-un (blackjack, that is; sorry, the French cuisine has that effect on one) and roulette tables with the wry reflection that said funds would, after all, have been better spent on the Beluga and Stoli. Wonder if it was "north of the Caspian"?