9 Street Food Spots Found in Hidden Caribbean Ports, Honestly Reviewed by Crew

When the ship docks and all the passengers head ashore, the crew gets a short and precious window of time. Most of my colleagues grab beers at a bar near the port or find a café with Wi-Fi, but I almost always walk into the back streets. Follow the smells and you generally end up in the right place.

The nine spots I'm writing about here are food stalls and small stands I've personally eaten at in ports where large cruise ships rarely call—or, if they do, where most passengers file off on organized tours. Some of them I can't remember the exact name of, and some I'm not sure I could ever find again. But the flavors I remember clearly.

Roseau, Dominica

Roseau, the capital of the Commonwealth of Dominica, has a small market visible the moment you walk out of the port.

My first discovery was the bake and saltfish from an older woman's stand on the left side of the market entrance. It's fried dough stuffed with sautéed salt cod, loaded with onions and hot peppers. I was surprised at the first bite—it wasn't greasy at all. I don't remember the exact price, but I do remember a colleague saying, "This much food for this price doesn't make any sense."

Also not to be missed is the fresh coconut water sold under a canopy deeper inside the same market. They lop the top off a coconut with a machete, and their hands move so fast I tensed up the first time I saw it. It wasn't cold, but it was sweet and clean.

Scarborough, Tobago

Near the port of Scarborough on the island of Tobago, Trinidad and Tobago, there's a small lane that runs behind the tourist information office. There, a man runs a cart by himself selling doubles. Doubles are curried fillings sandwiched between two thin pieces of fried bread—more famous on the Trinidad side, but this man's version had an exceptionally rich chickpea curry. He asks if you want it spicy, and even if you say "medium," it's quite hot. I ate it with tears streaming down my face, but I had no regrets.

A short walk past that cart, there's a woman selling cut fruit. The julie mango I had there was the softest mango I've ever eaten. It's just fruit, nothing fancy, but the way she sprinkled a little lime juice and salt over it brought the sweetness to a completely different level.

Bequia, St. Vincent and the Grenadines

Bequia is a small island where you have to take a tender boat from the ship. What they call a port is really just a pier. Walk along the beach to the right from the pier and you'll find a spot selling grilled lobster under the trees. At first I suspected it might be tourist pricing, but locals were standing in the same line. They grill them over charcoal, piling butter and garlic generously on top of the halved lobster. The smell lingered on my hands long after I'd returned to the ship.

A little farther along the same beachfront, the lambi fritters sold by a man there are also worth mentioning. Lambi is conch—a type of sea snail—chopped up, mixed into batter, and deep-fried. The chewy interior and crispy exterior paired well together. Honestly, they were a bit heavy on the oil, but that was part of the charm.

Kralendijk, Bonaire

Bonaire is an island famous for diving, so you don't hear much about its food. But if you walk from the port toward the town center, you come to a small square where I found a stand selling pastechi. Pastechi are half-moon-shaped fried turnovers filled with cheese, meat, or tuna. I chose cheese—the shell was paper-thin and crispy while the inside was completely molten cheese oozing out. It was so hot it burned the roof of my mouth, but the flavor in that moment was worth every bit of it.

About a block away, there was also a small window counter selling batidos. They're drinks made from blended fresh fruit, and here I was recommended a papaya and passion fruit combination. Drinking it while exhausted from the heat, I felt my body coming back to life.

Lastly

All nine of these places are hard to find by navigation. They either have no address, or if they do, it doesn't show up on a map app. There's no guarantee they'll be in the same spot every time. Maybe that's exactly why they stick in my memory. If I manage to find even one of them again on my next shore leave, that will be a lucky day.