Sunset Grill

This is one of the best places I can think of to sit and watch the sunset. In front, there’s just an enormous sky and the sea stretching, uninterrupted, all the way to the continent of Africa. As you sip your margaritas, a huge sun descends, turning from orange to incandescent pink, before being extinguished by a gun-metal sea. And then the darkness slowly closes down from the east, until the flame-coloured sky finally squeezes shut. You watch in awe, wondering how Lawrence Durrell, or Octavio Paz, would have described the glorious scene.

Lobster Shack is a luxurious re-interpretation of the rustic Goan beach shack concept: the kind of place where you’re more likely to wash down your lobster with a Grey Goose vodka than a Big Boss feni. We inspected the catch of the day, spread out on a bed of ice—baby shark, red snapper, king crab, tiger prawns—and, with the chef’s advice, zeroed in on the pomfret and lobster. This was followed by the elaborate ritual of weighing our selection on a scale, and charging us by the gram.

We asked for our order to be prepared ‘naked’, ie simply, lightly grilled—the only way to eat sea-food—and served with a selection of the chef’s sauces: garlic, lemon-butter, salsa and peri-peri. And we feasted on this by candle-light. Magnificent! You could, arguably, get a similar meal for half the price at Matheus’s shack down the beach. But think of it as noblesse oblige.