Now there are at least two places in Jamaica called [Mocho]. There's one in St. James near Garlands, but most persons agree that the Mocho from those infamous insults is the tiny town in Clarendon, between Thompson Town and Green Park. "Well Mocho is basically what you see here. There isn't much more. Things are quiet and we all know each other. We don't have anything to worry about, like crime. So whatever anybody want to say about Mocho, that is their problem. We are all quite alright," the perky woman grinned. We eventually stumbled on to a heated game of dominoes well in progress. It was like a festival of profanity as these self-proclaimed 'country people' enjoyed themselves in the best way they know how. One man got a bit excited and threw his hands into the air and ordained himself the domino king of Mocho. But a whisper from a female bartender confirmed that it was just the alcohol talking.
My companion and I chose the same things, so I can leave 'the person' out after this sentence. Sorry mi dear. Next, I had a Scelta Di Pasta Farfalle Bella Casa, which basically means Bow Tie Pasta with wonderful things from the house. As I am not a lover of Bow Tie Pasta - not wanting to ruin my dinner by eating a man in full suit and, yes, bow tie -- I opted for my favourite, Fettuccine. A small bowl arrived, just perfect for the occasion. The sauce -- a tomato basil mixture with loads of delish mushrooms and artichokes enhanced with bella crema and sprinkled with freshly grated parmesan cheese -- was absolutely perfetto. I followed that with Agnello Alla Rosmarino, which is a Parmesan Crusted Lamb, marinated in Rosemary and Garlic Au Jus with Potato. The lamb was exactly as I ordered it - medium rare - and it was, to tell the truth, melt-in-your-mouth good. I have to tell you, it's as if the gods just didn't want me to divulge this little Italian secret. This morning, all settled in to begin the procedure it takes to write one of these Thursday reviews, I could not find the notebook I had so carefully written all my information in this last time. Hello. I was suicidal. Not again, thought I. The possibility of having to visit Hedo III yet again sent shivers throughout my body. But I persevered. Hours later all was found, buried on my desk which is unfortunately covered almost to the ceiling in notes, papers, CDs and heaven only knows what else.
