By Heather Hoch
By Eric Schaefer
By New Times
By Rachel Miller
By Eric Schaefer
By Heather Hoch and Lauren Saria
By Robrt L. Pela
By Heather Hoch
A lot of that hormonal rampaging will take place in Rocky Point, a rollicking beach town and fishing village on the Sea of Cortez, 60 miles south of the border and a four-hour drive from the Valley. Good-bye, Land of the Free. Hello, Land of the Spree.
"Poor Mexico," someone once observed. "So far from God, and so close to the United States." That goes double for Rocky Point. English and dollars are spoken here. But make no mistake, despite the huge gringo presence, this is still the Third World.
On the downside, that means encounters with pesky vendors, suspect water and the kind of desperate poverty unfamiliar to most Americans. (Consider: In the U.S., you can have an apartment, a car, a well-stocked refrigerator, stereo equipment and 24-hour electricity, and still fall below the official poverty line.)
On the upside, Rocky Point offers visitors a charming, un-Disneyized naturalness, miles of unspoiled beaches and no age-related alcohol laws. No wonder students like to party here.
But even party animals can't live on Tecate and tequila alone. And why would they want to? What gets my hormones raging is Rocky Point's fantastic seafood. The quality and variety of the aquatic fare here are astonishing, and so are the low prices.
If you don't want to waste time changing out of your bathing suit, head to Mariscos Gamma. It's on the beach at the end of Calle 13, just next to the imposing Plaza Las Glorias, Rocky Point's premier hotel.
Can you have a better time elsewhere in town than at Mariscos Gamma? Probably not legally. The place has a languid, tropical look, with its sand floor, slow-moving fans, rows of wooden picnic tables and frightening shark jaws hanging on the walls. You can watch the sparkling blue waters of the Sea of Cortez lapping the shore. You can listen to the annoying roar of ATVs racing up and down the beach. You can shoo away photographers trying to memorialize your vacation experience.
But once the superb seafood arrives, I guarantee that your attention won't wander. The campechana cocktail is a beauty, packed with meaty shrimp, scallops, clams, octopus and squid, in a zesty sauce zipped up with onions and cilantro. If you're not prepared for the heady taste of the camarones al mojo de ajo--eight gorgeous, jumbo grilled shrimp drenched in garlic butter--you may be knocked off your bench. This platter also benefits from great beans, which get a boost from bits of pork.
Mariscos Gamma's mariscada is the single best dish I had in Rocky Point. Don't look for this platter on the English side of the menu--it's only listed in Spanish. You might call it a seafood stew, and you'll definitely call it phenomenal. The kitchen heaps together mounds of shrimp, clams, scallops, snapper, squid and octopus, then tosses in onion, carrot, chile and olives. The ingredients are moistened in a punchy red wine sauce, and then tightly wrapped in an aluminum-foil packet and steamed. When you tear open the container, the aroma is overpowering.
Need further evidence of this dish's charms? It comes with first-rate rice and fresh corn tortillas; it's big enough to feed two people; and it costs eight bucks. I'm no expert on theology, but this dish, enjoyed with an icy Corona, offers all the proof I'll ever need that there is a heaven.
The Friendly Dolphin, located just off the old port route at Alcantar #44, has been pleasing gringos for 12 years.
No wonder. The place looks great, a riot of festive colors, tile work, photographs of Old Mexico and attractive antiques. If the weather is nice, head up to the lovely third-story balcony and watch the sea. And keep an eye out for waiters in bandito outfits and 10-liter sombreros. They're "armed" with tequila bottles in their holsters, and wearing a clip of shot glasses for ammunition, always ready to pour you a shot.
Wherever you eat, including the Friendly Dolphin, look for waves of wandering mariachis to pass through. In Rocky Point, they're just about as plentiful as the shrimp. I don't have authoritative figures to back me up, but I'd guess this town has the highest per capita mariachi population on the planet. I'm surprised they weren't in my hotel-room closet, harmonizing on "Guantanamera" and "La Bamba."
They'll come by your table and ask if you'd like a song. Stop them if you wish, but be prepared to pay for a set. At the Friendly Dolphin, you'll get a bonus if the owner sings along--he's got a great voice.
He also knows what he's doing in the kitchen. Instead of traditional corn chips, the Friendly Dolphin offers crisp, puffy wafers made from flour. For a buck, you can nibble on a tostada de ceviche, tasty raw fish "cooked" in lime juice and spread over a crunchy tortilla. The Friendly Dolphin's campechana cocktail is also excellent.