In the six-plus years I’ve spent with my significant other, there have been countless stories about Trinidad and Tobago. Coconut water, drunk straight from the freshly macheted fruit, after football in Port of Spain’s Queens Park Savannah. Parties at Carnival time. The best spots for doubles or roti, those staples of T&T cuisine.
But the one that I heard over and over again was about Sundays spent at Maracas Bay, with a crew of good friends, cold beers, and bake and shark, straight out of the fryer.
