At Fisherman’s Restaurant, diners come for the giant fish sculpture in the parking lot, and stay for the opportunity to suffer an intestinal fissure.
I’m Señor Bigs Bardot, and I risked my very life this story.
Opened in 2024, ‘Fisho’s’ quickly became the gastronomical darling of Monterrico, that splash of resorts on the rugged south coast of Guatemala. It’s the place to be seen for the country’s glitterati – yes, even Raoul Gutiérrez has eaten there!
The restaurante was full to overflowing when Bigella and I touched down in the Land of the Bigs helicopter, right next to Los Amigos del Pescador (The Fisherman’s Friends). Our fellow patrons – pulpo and cerveza dripping down their chins – welcomed us with open arms.
After being seated by the pool, we pored over the sprawling menu. Umming and ahhing between the salmón teriyaki and the mojarra frita, we finally settled on the ceviche tradicional.
“You can’t go wrong with that,” Bigella said ominously.
Service was thoughtfully relaxed, providing us with plenty of time to pop outside for photos with Los Amigos del Pescador. The billfish are known, humorously, as Marlin Brando and Alexei Sailfish.
Sleek and stylish, they’re widely regarded as mascots of Monterrico – which the locals claim to be the Sailfish Capital of the World.
When we returned to our table, hearts full of hope, our scrumptious seafood dinner was waiting for us.
And that, my friends, is when it all went wrong.
El Ceviche de la Muerte
Our ceviche looked absolutely delightful, tantalising us with its zesty, fishy goodness. The bowl was overflowing with succulent prawns, juicy calamari and fresh-caught crab. But there was something extra special – a few strands of razor-sharp steel wool from a scouring brush.
Worst of all, I almost ate it!
“I don’t have time to die today,” I gagged bravely, plucking the filthy metal shards from my mouth. “I haven’t yet achieved my goal of bringing world peace through Big Things.”
Catarina, our waitress, looked suitably horrified when I presented her with the jagged condiment.
“Well, I’ve been meaning to get more iron in my diet!” I giggled as I handed back the contaminated meal. My ribald comment missed the mark, but Catarina did swap out the tainted food for a plate of camarones empanizados, which were just gorgeous.
The moment, however, had been ruined. Next time Bigella and I feel like a ceviche, we’ll stick with good ol’ Automoriscos in Palín, where the only danger is falling in love with the big dolphins out the front.
Los Amigos del Pescador are muy bonito but, ultimately, not worth risking colonic rupture for.
