by Bill Peeler
Decisions... Decisions. Do I stay by her side and commiserate? Or do I abandon her and dine alone?
Call me crass, but I was not about to cancel a gourmet meal at Ferraro's Italian Restaurant in the Four Seasons Resort. I offered my condolences and left.
I drove through Wailea.
Dappled sunlight filtered through the trees.
Elegant resorts spiked the coastline.
I passed lovingly manicured lawns.
Here and there an occasional glimpse of the salty Pacific.
A white egret fluttered by.
The resort itself could easily win an award for décor with its decorative fountains, well-kept lawns, and everywhere, curtained, poolside cabanas.
Lovers lounged on chaises, chatting and drinking.
On the way through to the restaurant, I stopped to knock off a few jazz tunes on the grand piano.
I wound my way down to the restaurant.
I sat at the bar and ordered a fruit and rum drink with cream in it. Recommended by the barkeep.
I took in the fashion show, an upscale crowd in mostly casual dress. And, of course, the occasional evening gown.
The lady next to me had on a watch that looked like it could have paid for 10 round trips, what I paid to fly into Maui.
I pulled the sleeve down over my cheap Walmart watch.
A bouquet of umbrellas shielded diners from a fleeting mist.
A floral-scented breeze teased.
I enjoyed watching several kids below, romping in the surf.
A photographer took pictures of a wedding party. Bridesmaids in green dresses dodged incoming waves.
The lights of pleasure yachts shone offshore.
French trained executive chef Roger Stittler studied immersion-style cooking in his mother's kitchen back in Switzerland. After that, he served in 5-star restaurants around the world. He currently oversees 55 chefs at the Four Seasons.
He puts a sophisticated gloss on island food.
The roasted striped bass that arrived sent up delicate aromas. I leaned in to inhale the fragrant steam.
The filet was fall-off-your-fork tender.
Accompanying were haiku cherry tomatoes, bathed in a velvety sauce, subtly smoky and sweet shaved Maui onions, and roasted potatoes.
The food deserved a Byronic ode.
It wasn't on the menu, but I finished with a scoop of creamy French vanilla ice cream.
By the time I finished dinner, stars were visible in an indigo sky. Silhouettes of palm trees waved in a gentle breeze.
Looking around, I realized several things:
This would be a perfect place to propose.
Gastronomes will delight in dining here.
And if this restaurant doesn't have a Michelin Star, it should have.