When it comes to truly memorable dining in the Caribbean, there are great restaurants, and then occasionally - if you're really lucky - there are
experiences. I wasn't sure which to expect when my friends and I left for our reservation at the
Castle Club, about a 20-minute drive outside of
Cabarete,
Dominican Republic, a few weeks ago. The web site promised a "unique dining experience," and the word on the beach was that the food is excellent. Still, when your destination is a private, mountaintop estate where a couple of married expats will prepare your meal in their own kitchen, you know your evening could go in a few different directions.
Driving up the winding road to the hilltop club, though, it became pretty clear to all of us that we were in for more than just a good meal. Situated on 50 acres of mountainous jungle, the "castle" itself is actually a still-in-progress, Romanesque-inspired home that seems suspended in time: Part medieval, part modern and entirely unfinished. The vaulted, open-air structure has no windows or doors on either of its two stories, and bare cement blankets the walls and floors. Though the living areas flow into the exterior gardens in every direction, the interior is lavishly decorated with oriental rugs and French Provencial furniture - all exposed to the elements. Doug and Marguerite Beers, the owners (chefs, hosts etc.), are eccentric, retired artists and it shows in every last detail. By reservation only, they host groups of six or more in their own dining room, and only once per night.
Following a stroll around the gardens with shared hors d'oeuvres of pesto quichettes, pâté and warm baguettes, my friends and I sat down to enjoy the main courses, with Doug and Marguerite taking shifts as our cooks, servers, fellow dinner guests and entertainment. Over plated servings of carrot and ginger soup, breaded grouper with lobster cream sauce, and a double-rum chocolate mousse for dessert, we talked about neighboring Cabarete - the history, the people, the culture - and then idled away the next several hours enjoying a few bottles of red wine and the light tradewinds that flowed freely through the home. Our hosts gave off the warm, comfortable vibe of old family friends, and we found ourselves captivated by the ambience and easy conversation until nearly midnight.
Finally tearing ourselves away from the dining room that night, we all exchanged hugs and the usual promises to return one day in the future. And in this case, as long as there are five willing volunteers to accompany me, I'm pretty sure I will.
The Castle Club
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One of the more surprising things about Grenada is that both its most famous flora (the nutmeg tree) and its most famous fauna (the mona monkey) are relatively recent arrivals on the island. French and English colonists brought nutmeg to the island from the Moluccan Islands of Indonesia during the 18th century (the exact details are disputed). The gregarious mona monkey (Cercopithecus mona) showed up around the same time, brought over from Africa during the height of the slave trade. Fortunately, slavery has been consigned to history, but as I witnessed yesterday during a trip into the Grand Etang National Park, in the island's midsection, the little mona is alive and well. Several troupes of monas bounce through the dense Grenadian forest these days, and a few — accustomed to handouts from visitors — are all too happy to loiter in public places. 
The two photogenic guys you see here weren't at all put off by my shameless gawking — that is, until they realized there was no easy meal to be had, when they promptly turned and sauntered off into the jungle. Up until quite recently, these remarkable animals were hunted and eaten, almost to the brink of eradication. But locals, perhaps realizing their tourist appeal, have (by all accounts) ceased that practice. We're sure happy about that, and so, we suspect, are the monkeys.
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