The Japanese probably pay four times that for a cheap cut of beef. Beef prices are sky-high in the Caribbean as well. North Americans are very lucky in this respect, and quite unique compared to the rest of the world.
I’ve had one piece of beef since Thanksgiving, 2012; a thin, chewy New York strip (emphasis on the strip), something that would be slung at you for breakfast at Denny’s in the States. It cost me a whopping $45 USD on Dominica. I must have been going through withdrawals. Limited pasture land and resultant conservative land use precludes raising beef cattle on small islands, so people get their meat from goats, sheep, chickens. You might find and maybe a couple of milk cows per village, and they are esating when they get too old to produce. Poor Elsie. But with the amazing spices, marinades, smoking techniques and sauces that are down here, the home cooks do some delightful things with these meats. Especially goat.
Another upside is that all you have to do is get some snorkle gear (or not) and pick conch, lobster, snails, welk, and scallop, right off the bottom. The best are found in shallow coves down-current from the mouths of small freshwater streams and saltwater rias down where the water starts to clear, but the nutrients are still high. Or watch for a nice shoreline current. You can see them from the deck in only three or four feet of water. A sandy beach will be sure to be hiding coquina, clams. A rocky shore will provide mussel, urchin and a kind of small abalone. You might need a “cat’s paw” crow bar to get these. They do amazing things with seaweed. It is used in salads and soups and is very good if cleaned and cooked properly. There is an abundance of seagrape and ocean berries. You just have to talk too a local cook to learn to prepare this foreign bounty. Peas are the main vegetable, but tomatoes and just about every other garden vegetable is available. Cassava and rice are the staple starches. You’ll pay a pretty penny for an Idaho potato, or anything else that’s not local to the island.
The fishing is good and easy compared to the over-fished Florida waters. Redfish, Snapper, Mackerel, King Mackerel, Tuna, Grouper, and Cobia are everywhere and easy to catch in all sizes. Hordes of tasty Sheepshead are gnawing at barnacles at every submerged structure within the photic zone. Just drop a hook with bread or a bit of shellfish as bait on a hook at any pier piling and you’ll get dinner in a couple of minutes. Cast a net on a moonless night in the right bay and you come up with more shrimp than you can eat in a week. Amateur anglers who would starve back home thrive down here.
There are fruit and vegetable stands at nearly every crossroads on these islands, or orchards full of avocado, mango, papaya, banana, kumquat, citrus and star fruit everywhere beyond the towns. All you have to do is get permission and make a cash offer—or trade off some of your surplus fish. It’s work-intensive compared to just going down to the grocery store, but it’s much more interesting and not that difficult.
It really is the art of living—converting the activity of feeding oneself, which can be unbearably mundane in a society stocked with “convenience” and clogged arteries, into a day of kayaking, snorkeling, fishing, hiking into the orchard and then time at the cutting board and grill. You meet the locals, you see the beauty of a place, you feel good.
Even with all this, I still really miss red meat sometimes. I actually daydream about a thick, medium-rare grain-fed Nebraska porterhouse, broccoli with hollandaise and a twice-baked potato with sour cream, butter, chives, bacon bits. Lots of butter. And a hearty, Tuscan Sangiovese… nothing can compare to that. But I will certainly never pay $45 for shoe leather again as long as I’m down here. I don’t miss it that much. Seafood and Pinot Grigio. Anyway, when in Rome…