Ahhhhhh The Conch!

How many people do you know that travel to a destination, just for the food? I know, I know... many. But do they travel, just for the conch?

C and I love Nassau, Bahamas. Not just because of the azure waters, and breathtaking beaches, but specifically for "The Scorched Conch." That's right, a little shanty hut, painted in lime green, with artificial flowers hanging in baskets and a barrel of iced down Kalik.

Donny presides over the knife at this little shack.

If you travel south on Bay Street, to the Potter's Cay Bridge entrance, there on the left, you will see "The Docks." It's a small area of colorful shanty shacks, where the locals go to eat fresh caught fish and conch. Never mind the fancy restaurants that charge $22 for a side dish of conch salad. "The Docks" is where the local fisherman bring in their daily catch. One might catch a glimpse of an old pickup truck with a mountain of conch shells strung together by jute in it's bed.
Walk down the lane, past the Caribbean music, past the taxi drivers and housecleaning employees from the big hotels, and you will find the real deal.



We had just eaten a pleasant, but overly expensive meal at the Poop Deck, on Bay Street, off the marina; we were full, and feeling no pain, when, as we were walking towards Potter's Cay Bridge, to go back over to Paradise Island, where our hotel was, we spotted all of these colorful shacks smelling of fried foods.

C and I strolled down the lane, looking into each shack. Each one smelling of fish, and sour orange.... we knew that this was where the heart of Nassau was. We mingled with the housekeepers, and taxi drivers, watching some play checkers on picnic tables. We came upon one shack called The Scorched Conch, and watched this man wielding a knife, slicing up fresh conch, right out of the shell. We stood there for a moment, deciding on a couple of cold Kalik's to break the ice.

I began taking photo's, listening to him tell a story about how hard it is to find conch nowadays.. Donny was saying that the fisherman have to go into deeper and deeper waters to find the Queen Conch. I watched as he sliced and diced a conch fo a man, sitting on a barstool, drinking his Kalik and smoking a Cohiba. I couldn't resist. As full as I was from our dinner, I just had to taste HIS scorched conch.

I asked him if he might make me one of his beautiful concoctions. He grinned this toothy grin and said, "Ah, Miss, I make the finest scorched conch on the island." And then he pulled snails out of 2 conch shells and began cleaning and dicing them with his knife, creating my dish of scorched conch. He chopped them up fine, squeezing sour orange all over the meat. Put that in a dish, and then chopped up some sweet white onion and fresh garlic and threw that into a bowl. Put the conch into the bowl and then squeezed more sour orange, drizzled a little olive oil, some fresh chopped cilantro, and then went into this big plastic container and gently took out a couple of teaspoons of this "sauce." It was pure scotch bonnet puree.... YEOW! He tossed the ingredients around, so as to fully marinate the conch and onion. Then he gave me the dish and said, "Here Mon, try it. Tell me what you think."
C was right behind me, dying to get her fingers on that spoon.
I tasted it, chewed the meat, took another bite, closed my eyes and "listened."
The tastes began to tease my tongue. I could taste every ingredient.
It was the most delicious conch salad I have ever tasted.
Donny and I had formed a bond.

Now, when we fly over to Nassau, we know Donny is at the top of the list, of things to do.