The first chicken appeared out of nowhere, creeping up behind my traveling companion as he stood in front of a Circle K convenience store in downtown Key West.In the middle of the crowded commercial strip, among the T-shirts and tchotchke shops, suddenly there he was, a brilliant green rooster, strutting up the steps as if there were nothing incongruous about his appearance in this semi-urban setting.
Make time for pie
Key lime pie is to southern Florida what fried clams are to coastal Massachusetts: nearly ubiquitous, incredibly tasty and an integral part of the local culinary culture.Florida’s Key lime is a smaller, yellower, tarter version of the fruit with which we are familiar. The pie it inspired is a hallmark of the Florida Keys.At the dessert’s most simple, the filling is an amalgam of condensed milk, eggs and Key lime juice; the crust can be no more than a thick layer of graham cracker crumbs.But within this essential formula, dozens of subtle variations of flavor intensity, crust composition and filling consistency are possible. The results of these different approaches vary. While there is almost no such thing as a bad piece of Key lime pie, some slices are, for lack of a better word, sublime.Where, then, can these exceptional delights be found? After extensive taste-testing, I present you with the Keys’ best pies:Kermit’s Key Lime Shoppe: Other pie purveyors use the phrase “Key lime” in their names, but Kermit’s really earns it, with intense lime flavor and solid, flavorful crust. Whole pies are available; they’ll even ship, though this option is costly. 200 Elizabeth St., Key West. No Name Pub: This tiny tavern in the heart of the Key Deer Wildlife Refuge (justifiably) boasts of its pizza, but the pie deserves equal billing. The filling, with its more subtle lime flavor, is laid on thick, but that didn’t stop my dining companion and me from devouring the enormous slice in record time and then contemplating seconds. North Watson Boulevard, Big Pine Key. Denny’s Latin Cafe: The pie here is served in thin slivers, but worry not: This dessert is made for savoring rather than gobbling. The lime flavor is powerful and the filling so rich that it resembles a particularly silky cheesecake. 99600 Overseas Hwy./MM 100, Key Largo.
It was like an unexpected little feathered gift.And in the end, it was that chicken that taught me how to love the Florida Keys.Perhaps I should back up a few days.You see, I hate Florida.Like many Northerners, I have long thought of the state as a palm-tree-dotted tract of land that is equal parts theme park and retirement community.My experience in the state has demonstrated that some parts are simply run-down and unappealing; others are too new and meticulously planned to offer any mystery or adventure, any sense of place.West Palm Beach is alternately gaudy and dodgy. Right in the middle of the state, the town of Lady Lake is simply dull. Titusville, near the Kennedy Space Center, is all bland commerce. Miami tries too hard.Florida is flat. It is tacky. It is obvious.It is, I have always believed, completely without history and variety, bereft of soul.And so I arrived in the Keys %26#8212; an elongated cluster of small coral islands off the southern tip of the state %26#8212; for a nine-day sojourn, with more than a smidgen of skepticism in my heart.The first morning of my trip I spent searching for a coffeehouse recommended by a friend.Route 1 runs down the archipelago like a spine, from Key Largo, the northernmost island, to Key West, located just 90 miles from Cuba.The stretch of Route 1 that I drove down that morning boasted a typical Floridian landscape of boat dealers, shabby motels and a newly opened Starbucks. Nowhere, however, could I find the charming cafe I had been promised.Rather than continuing the search, I headed south to see if the roadside views would improve.For the first 15 miles, the outlook was not promising. But then, shortly after I entered Islamorada %26#8212; a village just south of Key Largo that is composed of several keys %26#8212; the land to my left fell away, replaced by an expanse of turquoise water, a color that was almost unfathomable to a Northerner accustomed to a steel-gray coastline.Perhaps there was some hope for Florida after all.Shortly thereafter, I turned and headed back north but was almost immediately enticed to stop by a small white shack, surrounded by a profusion of fuchsia and dusky golden blossoms and advertising Florida citrus.A few minutes later, with a bag of tangerines in hand and a sample slice of fresh pineapple in my stomach, I resumed my journey, warming even further toward the state.Before long, however, I was again immersed in strip malls, and my citrus buzz was beginning to fade, when suddenly I found it: the elusive coffeehouse.Though located right on Route 1, the Key Largo Conch House is all but concealed in a grove of trees. When I finally glimpsed it, I had to brake hard to turn into the parking lot. imgCounter += 1; aryImgs[imgCounter] = “http://images.capecodonline.com/apps/pbcsi.dll/bilde?Site=CC%26Date=20080203%26Category=LIFE%26ArtNo=802030311%26Ref=H2%26MaxW=200%26MaxH=180%26title=1%26border=0″; aryCaps[imgCounter] = “A%20kayak%20tour%20puts%20visitors%20in%20close%20touch%20with%20Florida%92s%20marine%20life%20and%20the%20tropical%20beauty%20of%20the%20area. “; aryZooms[imgCounter] = “javascript: NewWindow(870,625,window.document.location+’%26Template=photos%26img=”+imgCounter+”‘)”; A shaded path leads from the parking lot to the tiny restaurant and coffeehouse. The thick foliage seems to absorb the surroundings; sitting on the wraparound porch I almost forgot that a four-lane highway runs just a few yards away.The staff members are friendly and, I later learned, engage in familiar banter with customers after only a few repeat visits (sturdy mugs of caf%26#233; con leche plus free wireless Internet plus stupendous fish tacos equal instant customer loyalty).The next day, my traveling companion and I embarked on a three-hour trek to Key West.Much of the drive mirrored the explorations I had made the day before; dreary commercial strips punctuated, at times, by awe-inspiring natural beauty.As we crossed the bridge from Bahia Honda Key onto Deer Key, I looked out the car window and was shocked to discover, intermingled with the pelicans and cormorants, a bald eagle soaring almost level with our car.Farther south, a network of mangrove islands formed a patchwork landscape not unlike the marshlands of coastal Massachusetts.The wanderings of the previous days and that morning’s drive were softening my bias against Florida, a sensation I wasn’t sure I liked.Therefore, it was unpleasant to my senses but gratifying to my pride to discover, as we neared our destination, that the gateway to Key West is a dense mess of commercial development.The scene did not improve as we proceeded toward our lodging on Duval Street, the entertainment and retail strip that is to Key West what Bourbon Street is to New Orleans, curbside liquor sales and all.The Avalon Bed and Breakfast, thankfully, was a respite from the chaos. On the quiet end of Duval Street, it is a peaceful, historical building with an interior reminiscent of a New England inn.After checking in, we headed out for a stroll, during which we had that auspicious first encounter with a peripatetic Key West rooster.According to various guidebooks, approximately 2,000 feral chickens roam the streets of Key West, crowing from trees, pecking at dropped crumbs and generally surprising tourists.The realization that the soulless land of Florida could produce such an arbitrary and delightful phenomenon crushed the last of my resistance to the Keys.This region, it seemed, was more than golf courses and salmon-colored condo developments.And each delightful sight I found, I realized, was all the more enjoyable for having not been immediately apparent. It was as if I were ferreting out the true Keys.On the return journey the following day, we took a side trip into the Key Deer National Refuge, which encompasses parts of Big Pine and No Name Keys about 30 miles north of Key West.Key deer %26#8212; an elfin subspecies of Virginia white deer %26#8212; tend to avoid open spaces during the heat of midday. Our patient ramblings through the refuge, however, were finally rewarded when one of the tiny animals appeared on the side of the road, nibbling on grass for several minutes before noticing our presence and fleeing back into the low pine scrub.On our way back to Route 1, we stopped for lunch at the No Name Pub, a low-slung yellow and aqua building with picnic tables scattered outside.When our eyes adjusted to the cavelike interior, we noticed the unique decor: thousands of dollar bills, signed by previous customers, blanketing the walls, ceiling and beams of the tavern.The going estimate, said the waitress, is that $90,000 adorn the eatery.Even my failed attempts to find the disguised wonders of the Keys yielded some unforeseen joys. imgCounter += 1; aryImgs[imgCounter] = “http://images.capecodonline.com/apps/pbcsi.dll/bilde?Site=CC%26Date=20080203%26Category=LIFE%26ArtNo=802030311%26Ref=V3%26MaxW=200%26MaxH=180%26title=1%26border=0″; aryCaps[imgCounter] = “Green%2C%20lush%20Florida%20vegetation. “; aryZooms[imgCounter] = “javascript: NewWindow(870,625,window.document.location+’%26Template=photos%26img=”+imgCounter+”‘)”; The day after our return from Key West, an attempted snorkeling trip out of the John Pennekamp Coral Reef State Park was a disaster (note to self: Asthmatics with mediocre swimming skills maybe shouldn’t snorkel).On the boat ride back to shore, however, I had an endearing chat with a British girl of about 6, who described to me, in her lilting accent, the undersea wonders she had seen on her own, more successful snorkeling venture.And the following day, an excursion to the island of Lignumvitae Key fully justified my newfound faith in the Keys.The journey began near the southern end of Islamorada at Robbie’s Marina, a colorful collection of shacks tucked away out of view from the highway, where vendors and guides sell everything from painted coconut souvenirs to kayak eco-tours.Visitors can even pay $1 to view the tarpon %26#8212; 3-foot-long olive-green fish that patrol the waters around Robbie’s docks.A boat from the marina transported another traveler and me to Lignumvitae Key, an uninhabited island accessible only by private launch.Lignumvitae features miles of trail through pristine tropical hardwood forest and a historical coral house built in 1919 by chemistry magnate Henry Matheson (his formula put the blue in blue jeans, according to our guide, Dustin).Among the trees Dustin pointed out along the trails were a species of wild coffee with hallucinogenic berries and another that splits itself into multiple trunks so it can sacrifice one to parasitic insects.As we returned to the clearing, an osprey flew overhead, clutching a freshly caught fish in its talons.Driving back to Key Largo that evening, I stopped at the Rain Barrel, a cooperative art gallery located in what appears to be a renovated wooden garage.Upon entering the front door, however, I discovered that beyond the building, which housed the works of perhaps three artisans, a sun-dappled path looped through a stand of trees past several more shops.In one, a crafter shaped glass pieces with a roaring blowtorch, and farther back, a clay-spattered potter worked on his wares.On my final day, I returned to Robbie’s Marina to rent a kayak. Though it was too early in the season for guided tours, the man working the rental shack provided an accurate, if poorly scaled, map to the mangrove stands that surround the area.Only once did I run into other paddlers; for most of my three hours on the water, I was alone among the mangrove tunnels and stalking herons.On the outskirts of the mangroves, I scanned the shallows for signs of the jellyfish nursery the kayak provider had promised, but saw only dusty brown vegetation.Then I caught sight of what I took for a fish, a black-and-white creature that darted by the blade of my paddle. As I watched the retreating form, my focus suddenly shifted, and I realized that much of what I had taken for plant life was, in fact, the swirling tentacles of jellyfish.The area beneath me was carpeted with them, and the seafloor pulsated with their movements.The kayaking expedition, it seemed, was the ideal way to spend my final day; the Keys had, quite literally, come alive beneath me.The next day, as we drove to the airport in the pre-dawn gloom, I already was calculating when I could make a return trip.It seems, after all, that I do love Florida.Sarah Shemkus can be reached at sshemkus@capecodonline.com.
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