Chicken Out - The Coconut Chronicles: Two Guys, One Caribbean Dream House - page 195

I'm not much of a cook.
This doesn't particularly bother me.
But I'm much less philosophical about the fact that Michael doesn't cook either.
Yes, we slog our way through a limited repertoire of dishes on a semi-regular basis when
we're in D.C. This includes a stir-fry of chicken and veggies made palatable with the last-
minute addition of a Madras curry paste; baked chicken coated in honey and Italian bread-
crumbs; and a pasta dish involving tuna, mayonnaise and—
Oh never mind, you don't want to know .
Usually we go out to dinner.
Lots of our friends, especially those who don't own second homes, make a habit of din-
ing at one of the many Fine Restaurants around town, the places Michael and I venture into
only when we're trying to make each other feel okay about turning a year older.
I'm always impressed and I always have a lovely time. After all, there's something heady
about eating a forty dollar piece of fish. But deep down I always feel like the food is wasted
on me.
More often than not we end up at one of the many (admittedly) lower-tier but much-
loved eateries near our apartment. One of the nice things about living in a city is that, with
any luck, your house is within walking distance of cuisines from practically every corner
of the globe. Our apartment building is a prime example of this uniquely urban phenomen-
on: walk two blocks north and you've got French; two and half, Tex-Mex; four, Thai; five,
Japanese.
Or, if you're feeling a wee bit weary, just pick up the phone and order Chinese.
This is one of my biggest weaknesses, particularly in cold weather. Just think about
it—for a decent tip (we're talking five dollars here), a perfectly nice man will bring a cooked
meal to your door. Yes, it's true, you have to pay for the food, but you'd also have to pay for
it if you cooked it yourself—and it wouldn't be nearly as tasty.
Unlike me, Michael occasionally gets tired of Chinese.
“I can't eat it two nights this week,” he'll lament as I'm speed dialing my order for Kung
Pao chicken, though he often gives in at the last minute and shouts “ General Tso's ” just as
I'm about to hang up.
In Vieques, our feeding habits are pretty much the same. We've tried almost every res-
taurant on the island at least once. Of these, we generally rotate between three or four favor-
ites. If we're in town for a week, we usually eat at home the first night, then rotate among
Tradewinds , Duffy's , El Quenepo and Conuco the other nights.
When we cook at home in Vieques, we keep the fare even simpler than when we cook
in D.C., partly because of the heat, but mostly because we just don't want to spend a lot of
time cooking when we're supposed to be having fun.
Michael usually grills steaks or chicken, and I'll steam whatever green vegetable I can
find (they're not always easily accessible on the island).