Here at Salt in Wound dot-com, we tirelessly circumnavigate the globe in search of the ultimate meatball sandwich. And so it was that I found myself in Oranjestad, Aruba, at the Tamarijn All-Inclusive Vacation Beach Resort. You know how they don’t feed you on planes anymore? Suffice to say I was starving like a mothereffer upon arrival. It was squarely between lunchtime and dinner, so the Cunucu Terrace buffet was not open. The only dining option: the poolside bar known as Pizza Per Tutti.
Now, if a place has pizza in its name, you are obligated to order the pizza—that’s just part of The Code. I asked for the personal-sized pepperoni pie, not specifying thin or thick crust. This was an error on my part. I suppose their default is the thin—or did my New York metro area accent telegraph a preference?—but it was basically a cracker crust and not very pleasing at all. Meanwhile, my side order of “Mexican fries” was a disaster. They wanted to be nachos. There was some melted cheese, globs of guacamole and sour cream, and a sad pool of salsa. Tortilla chips would’ve known how to handle the situation. The fries were just lost.
All the while I couldn’t help but notice another offering on the menu board:
Tuna salad on French bread. No, you silly-billies! Of course I’m referring to the meatballs in tomato sauce, also served on French bread. My next time at Pizza Per Tutti, I’d be ordering that meatball sandwich.
Two days later, that’s just what I did—only to be denied. “No meatballs today,” I was told. I put on a brave face, quickly revising my order to a pepperoni pizza, thick crust thank you very much. But inside I was reeling. Maybe I should’ve ordered the sandwich on day one. It had been Italian theme night later at the Cunucu, so they likely did have meatballs that day. And what about day two, when I oh-so-cavalierly had an oh-so so-so cheeseburger at the buffet? Had I blown my only opportunities to be a meatball hero?
And still, I thought, this was perhaps a very good sign. If they didn’t have meatballs available every day, that was a strong indication that these were freshly-made meatballs, not frozen. And we connoisseurs know that a fresh meatball is the only meatball.
Meanwhile, the pizza’s thick crust—Boboliesque, one might say—was a marked improvement. And the kind woman behind the counter didn’t skimp on the pepperoni slices. Overall, a significantly less shitty meal, and hope sprang eternal.
I daringly waited two more days to return to Pizza Per Tutti. Very casually, I inquired, “Do you have meatballs today?” and attempted to conceal my giddiness when the answer was in the affirmative. As I waited for the sandwich to be prepared, I was feeling good about things. The previous night, I’d dined at the Tamarijn’s Italian-motif Paparazzi restaurant, and their red sauce was surprisingly agreeable—it had some genuine subtlety to it. Now as my sandwich was handed to me, I noticed quite a lot of unannounced melted mozzarella blocking my view of the sandwich’s innards. Couldn’t see for the forest for the cheese, as it were. If I were lactose-intolerant, this could’ve proven quite worrisome. But I am a lactophile. I like my lact.
I cracked open my sandwich to take a closer look.
It looked pretty good, but there were already hints of real trouble. The meatballs were small and perfectly shaped, with no texture to the cross-section.
Typical attributes of a frozen ball.
I picked up half of the sandwich and took a bite. The bread was decent: appealingly crisp on the outside, though lacking the chewy interior we specialize in here in Hoboken. The sauce, rather than the slightly smoky variety from Paparazzi’s nearby kitchen, was the same old mediocre marinara from my personal pepperoni pies. And yup, as I’d feared, the meatballs were the spongy, assembly-line, Subway-Footlong strain that just don’t make for a top-quality sandwich experience.
And yet, you really can’t expect too much in an all-inclusive scenario, be it cruise ship, resort, or firehouse spaghetti fundraiser. It’s quantity over quality. Decent but nothing to write home about on your “Iguanariffic!” postcard. Besides, the weather was amazing, the beach is right there, drinks are watered down but certainly plentiful, and did you notice that woman in the first photo? Hubba hubba.
• Meatball sandwich review #1
• Meatball sandwich review #2
I absolutely noticed the woman in the first photo, didn’t think much about meatballs after that!
Glad you’re having a nice time in Aruba, if I read this right. Doing ok here where we are. Today I found my new favorite college radio DJ – played The Hunches, Marine Girls, Cat’s Miaow etc. About every 4 months a new DJ will blow my mind. No one beats College DJs. No one. So Jack, I kind of envy your little Aquarium DJ Show being extremely sub-par. I’m also not interested in the being the best and all that. Think of it, there’s what, 2000? 5000? DJs who are cooler than you, and they all are 20 years old.
Maybe that DJ has a webpage where you can make positive comments? Just to mix things up a little.
I already called her a few hours ago asking about the Marine Girls. I couldn’t place it. I thought it might be a Lois song. It’s weird I was such a junkie for the first Everything But The Girl record, I’ve never quite dove into the Marine Girls, still though royally dig em whenever they are on the dial.