I know I’ve been going on and on about our vacation, but you’ll have to endure one or two more post before I finally shut up about it.  Only two more- I promise.  Then I’ll get back to chronicling our slightly more monotonous and definitely colder day to day non-adventures in Seattle.

When you think Mexican food, you generally think of the typical stuff- tacos, burritos and anything with salsa and guac.  Maybe throw in some ceviche for a bit of good measure and you’re set.  Well, we definitely ate all of that, but we also had some of the best Italian food either of us have ever had.

I know, I know- you’re sitting there thinking “Italian food?”  And you’re probably silently judging us for being the stupid tourists who go to another country and don’t take advantage of local eating options.  (Well, you’re probably judging ME and thinking that you’re still rather impressed that Mike made it through the entire trip without finding a Weinerschnitzel.)  Well, before you totally judge (or just laugh at my habit of projecting my insecurity on anonymous readers), let me preface it by telling you that we had set out to go eat some ceviche on the beach, but our original destination was closed for a wedding so we decided to check out the place next door, Posada Margherita .  Mostly because there was a flower on the sign, and it was close.  We were hungry.

We wandered into a tiny patio in the middle of some beachfront cottages- so far, so good.  There were about 10 tables and we were told to just sit down wherever we wanted, so we did.  A waiter came by a few minutes later, and instead of giving us a menu, he sat down at the empty chair and listed about 5 options.  Once he said “fresh tagliatelle” for the third time, I realized that we had wandered into an Italian joint.  I was a bit confused.  (His heavy Italian accent probably should have tipped me off as well).

At this point I woke from my low-blood-sugar-induced stupor and looked around.  I realized that we were sitting next to a gorgeous wine cellar and were surrounded by older couples who were all dressed with at least a hint of Eurotrash- heavy on the ascots and flowing silk scarves.  I suddenly suspected that we had sat down to a meal that was going to cost more than what we had intended.

So I did the dumbest, most embarrassing, Ugly-American thing I’d done in a while- I interrupted our waiter and asked how much the meals he had listed actually cost (no prices had been mentioned).  He paused, gave us the prices in pesos, and said he’d come back to take our orders in a minute.  Meanwhile, I did some math and realized we were talking about $30 a plate- not something I’d bat an eye at for a nice meal in Seattle or LA, but in the land of $3 ceviche, it suddenly seemed REALLY expensive.

While we debated whether or not we wanted to really complete the embarrassment and leave, the table next to us got our food.  Mike took one look at the feast in front of them and told me to stay in my seat, order whatever I wanted and get some wine for good measure.  I was confused.  And then I remembered- my husband is a whore for lobster.

So here is what the most expensive meal in Tulum looks like:

the complementary meze platter. love at first sight.

my grilled prawns. heaven.

the lobster that stole mike's heart. magic amazing seafood bliss.

Seriously, if you are ever in Tulum and you want an amazing meal, go to Posada Margherita.  Eat pasta in Mexico without shame.  Yum.

After spending $70 on dinner on Saturday, we ate for $8 on Sunday.  And it was super good too, if not a tad more authentic.

if this face doesn't say happy (or homicidal maniac) i don't know what does

This post encompasses everything that is good about vacation food.

Ok, I have one more post to share about our vacation, and then it’s back to pictures of gray skies.  I promise.