Relaxing Vacations in Mexico Don't Begin with Sushi

The sun sets on the beach in Puerto Vallarta, Mexico

All-inclusive resorts: They reel you in with their lavish, drool-worthy images of food and poolside cabanas, beaches and translucent, turquoise water. They tell you you’ll escape normal life for a week, that you’ll drown your worries in infinity pools and piña coladas and leave your cares on the mainland. They don’t tell you to watch what you eat or end up wishing your king-sized bed came with an attached throne.
    
My husband and I are adventurers at heart and love piecing together an a la carte voyage that surprises and delights. But we also enjoy a calm, relaxing break, one where we don’t have to worry about much and can just let our minds do the wandering instead. We had been to the breathtaking Riviera Maya region in eastern Mexico and the striking snorkeling haven of Cozumel, so one February we headed west instead, where the waves would be more dramatic and the ocean darker. We flew to Puerto Vallarta, on mainland Mexico across from Baja California. It was dazzling; we could see the navy waves of the Pacific crashing roughly on the beach from our hotel balcony, and we sat mesmerized as we watched beast-like cruise ships come and go from the main port just a few kilometers away. There was nothing to complain about (there rarely is on vacation, when you stop and put everything in perspective); it was paradise. 
    
At most all-inclusive resorts, there are a few types of restaurants where you can forage for your next meal: The main buffet, an a la carte restaurant, or a more casual snack bar. I’m a sucker for a relaxing spot near the beach with a nice view, regardless of the cuisine, so one of our favorite spots at this resort became the snack bar down by the water: A sushi bar. It was Tuesday-- way too early in the week for any incident that could spoil a vacation-- when we spent a solid few hours at that sushi bar soaking in the sun, the cervezas, and the raw fish. Raw fish in a region where foreigners are warned not to drink the tap water-- you know, a smart choice. 
    
The sushi tasted just like it did at home-- salty, savory, the seaweed and fish getting an extra punch with a dollop of wasabi. We were famished after an afternoon of letting the waves abuse us, so Patrick and I indulged in plate after plate of hand rolls. It didn’t seem like a lot because the plates were small, but there were a lot of small plates. After all, endless was the name of the game here. 
    
An hour or so into our sushi soiree, Patrick left to use the bathroom in our hotel room. I continued eating the raw fish while he was gone; it was in front of me, after all. Several minutes went by, which eventually turned into 40. I thought, after our cervezas, that perhaps Patrick had laid down on the bed and fallen asleep. I considered packing up our things and heading up to the room, but instead I set my eyes on the dark blue ocean, popped in another eighth of a hand roll with my chopsticks, and focused on the sound of the surf.
    
WhhhooOOOOOOSHHHHH. Silent undertow. WhhhooOOOOOSHHHHH. Piece of delicious sushi. Repeat.

Suddenly there was a voice behind me. It was Patrick, looking a quarter miffed and three-quarters amused. 

“I got stuck in the elevator.” 
    
“You what?”
    
“On my way back down from our room, the elevator stopped between floors. It was stuck!” he said. “And I couldn’t communicate with anyone!”

When Patrick and I visit Spanish-speaking countries together, I am our translator, having learned enough of the language in school and during our travels to get by. I allowed myself to laugh at the image of Patrick and the elevator maintenance people trying unsuccessfully to communicate with each other through a metal wall; after all, the ordeal ended painlessly.

I was glad I hadn’t gone looking for him, but not so glad I ate all that raw fish, because that night it happened. We continued with our evening, and then around 2 a.m., the wave of nausea took over in bed, in a way no ocean wave ever could. All of that delicious sushi-- of course it was too good to be true. What was I thinking? I asked myself as I stumbled to the bathroom, Patrick barely twitching as I let myself fall out of the bed. My usual hope during food illnesses is that all the toxins can exit my system at once, and I can just move on and continue being the indulgent pig I set out to be. But that’s not how it ever works. 

I spent the entire night sick, finally falling back asleep as the sun started rising and the giant steel beasts started leaving the port for another warm day at sea. I could sense around 10 a.m. that Patrick was waking up, and I rolled over to tell him my miserable news. I was sick. And, as usual, my stomach was the great informant-- it gave my taste buds the now-disgusting flavor of what was making me so ill. It tasted like sushi. 

​Patrick wasn’t sick, only me. Maybe he had already been given his punishment for overindulging-- being trapped alone in a hot elevator for over a half hour. I’d take that over vomiting any day. 

I was unable to leave the room (and, basically, the bed), all day Wednesday. As Patrick headed to the beach and promised to check on me frequently, I squinted out the window to see a slice of paradise from my stationary spot on the sheets. In the background was the sparkling ocean, and in the foreground, I saw the sun shining glaringly on the thatched roof of the snack bar, under which I knew the raw fish flowed. 

I turned over and stared at the wall instead.

Sushi with Smoked Salmon

Prep: 30 minutes
Servings: 6
Yield: 6 rolls

Ingredients:
2 cups Japanese sushi rice
6 tablespoons rice wine vinegar
6 sheets nori (dry seaweed)
1 avocado -- peeled, pitted, and sliced into strips
1 cucumber, peeled and sliced into matchsticks or julienned
8 ounces smoked salmon, cut into long strips
2 tablespoons wasabi paste (optional)

Directions:
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Rinse rice to remove excess starch. Cook rice in a rice cooker with 2 cups of water. (Don’t add additional water; it’s good for the rice to be slightly dry, as vinegar will also be added.)

Immediately after rice is cooked, mix in 6 tbsp. rice wine vinegar to the hot rice. Spread rice on a plate until completely cool.

Place 1 sheet of seaweed on a bamboo mat; press a thin layer of cool rice on the seaweed. (If you don’t have a bamboo mat; that’s fine; simply do your best to roll the seaweed evenly when assembled). Leave at least 1/2 inch on the top and bottom edges of the seaweed uncovered. This is for easier sealing later. Dot some wasabi on the rice (optional). Spread the cucumber, avocado and smoked salmon evenly on top of the rice. Position them about 1 inch away from the bottom edge of the seaweed.

Slightly wet the top edge of the seaweed. Roll from the bottom to the top edge with the help of the bamboo mat at first, tightly, pressing edges to seal once rolled. Cut roll into 8 equal pieces and serve. Repeat for other rolls.

Recipe adapted from allrecipes.com