Sailors and Swedes
November 2010
Dear Readers, I'm back. After a few months' hiatus I am happy to report that my column,
"The View From Here", has a new home here on SBHONLINE AND ON the WIMCO website.
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The first-ever View From Here dates from June 1999, over ten years of musing
about my adopted island, and boy did I get in trouble over that one.
Called on the carpet at the gendarmerie for my tall tales, but that's all water under the bridge. And speaking of water, this month has a nautical theme
with the third annual St Barth Cata-Cup, a three-day regatta for sports catamarans based on the beach in St Jean.
Which explains the sandman's barge off the coast, as sand will be pumped onto the shore near Nikki Beach to plump
things up for the international competitors who make this event a must for serious multi-hull racers, including three
hot teams from the USA. This month also has a Swedish accent and if you thought you were seeing things, or might
have had just one ti'punch too many, your eyes were not deceiving you: a group of Swedish soldiers in their 18th-century
costumes really did step off of the Great Bay Express and into the streets of Gustavia - the town named for one of their
historic kings. In fact, they just missed a visit by the Swedish ambassador to France, Gunnar Lund, who was here on
an official visit just days before, and took time to say Hallo to the folks at St Barth's Swedish Design Center, which has
just moved into fancy new digs in the heart of Gustavia, at their opening night reception. By now you are probably asking
yourself, wait a minute, isn't this island French, what's with this Swedish obsession? Lest we forget, St Barth was a
possession of the Swedish crown for nearly 100 years (mid-18 to mid-19th century) and relations between the two
have been revived in recent years, from the twinning of Gustavia with the Swedish town of Pitea since 1978, and lots of
mutual friendship activities, including the annual Swedish marathon, the Gustavialoppet, in which a group of Swedes come
to St Barth and join local runners in a 10K race in the heat of a November Sunday morning, after an all-you-can-eat pasta
party at the school cafeteria the night before.
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The Gustavians in front of historic Swedish Wall House.
Soldiers in Swedish period costumes on the dock Gustavia
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This year, the 20th anniversary of the race is part of an entire Swedish week,
which is what brings the period Swedish soldiers to our shores. I wonder if any of them are descendants of the thousands of
Swedes who once populated Gustavia, building such stone monuments as the prefecture, clock tower, the old town hall, and
the Wall House. Or what they think as they march around the port, muskets in hand, on streets with old Swedish names.
While they are certainly not here to try and replant the Swedish flag on French soil, they are a living reminder of the island's most unusual and curious trajectory through time.
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The Great Fish Debate
July 2010
There seems to be a bone of contention among a few of my friends. Fine folks who love some of the finer things in life, such as Dover Sole
That flat fish floating in butter and capers. Known in French as Sole Meuni¸re, it is made from what is called in European fisherman vernacular
as common sole...yet what a lovely way to dress up a common species. But the debate centers around the question of Dover Sole on the menu in St Barth,
since probably the closest place you could catch said sole is in the Mediterranean, just a few thousand miles away. Now if we were some land-locked corner of the
world, flying fresh fish a few thousand miles might make sense. But to fly it to St Barth, a tropical island whose warm waters are a veritable aquarium of diverse - and edible - fish.
Of course the sole does not make a solo journey across the Atlantic... other European fish are packed up and sent on the voyage as well, along with scallops,
oysters, mussels and other crustaceans and mollusks not native to our seas. Of course, quite a few oysters were shucked along the road to St Barth's perch as
the pearl of the Caribbean, where fine dining is high on the list of the islandÕs attributes. But IÕd like to issue a challenge to the great chefs lurking in the local kitchens.
How about 'fresh fish month,' a celebration of all that can be found by our favorite fishermen... and cut down on the carbon footprint of flying fish halfway around
the world. In fact, the chef at Le Tamarin has stepped up to the plate already by creating "Bourse Meuni¸re," taking a local fish and turning it into a delicacy.
Bourse is a fish one doesn't make an appearance on menus too often, so try it out when you see it. Of course, mahi-mahi, wahoo, tuna, and bonita often take
the bait when our fisherman head out to sea, as well as local lobster and the occasional marlin or even shark, as can be seen at the fish market in
Gustavia. Other local fish range from rainbow-colored parrotfish to things
called 'grand guele' and 'coffre' - all of which youÕll find on native tables.
Of course the islandÕs native lived primarily on fish for hundreds of years: my husband says they ate it twice a day, six days a week,
year in and year out (the only break in the pescatore platters was a bit of chicken or goat on Sunday). Fish on the BBQ, fish in court bouillon,
fish every way you can imagine, other than meuni¸re, which came to the island as part of the most recent European invasion. So should we
be flying fish to the island or not? IÕd say no, but when my husband, the native, orders Dover Sole, I guess there is more than one bone to pick around here.
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