Consuming Poissons

Fishing seafood to kissing zebus 

Freshly cut

Freshly speared

Freshly peeled


Tastes like chicken

 Likes chicken taste

 Tastes for older tourists  




Malagesy food is for the most part delicious, and kitchens prepare main meals in a distinctly French style regarding subtlety of flavours and combination of textures; and serve them with a distinctly Malagesy disregard for time. 

This French influence extends out into the dining area, which is filled with cigarette smoke, dogs and gnarled old men, who occasionally urinate.

Serving staff in general are unfailingly polite. If nothing else. 

“That zebu filet with pepper sauce you ordered one and a half hours ago? Well, we’re out of pepper sauce.” 
“Ok, zebu filet with tomato sauce will do just fine then.”
“Well, we’re actually out of zebu too.”

Breakfast is a simple ‘petit dejeneur complet’ consisting baguette, butter, jam, coffee and juice; though, since restaurant larders seem perennially understocked, breakfast inevitably becomes ‘petit dejeneur in-complet’.

On the coast, the seafood is a must. Marlin, tuna and parrot fish are caught fresh daily, and lobster too. Fishermen readily rent out spear guns, which is a great way to personally experience denuding a local ecosystem.

Alternatively hire a small hand line and go out on a pirogue with a local fisherman. Be prepared to eat small crabs, shellfish and burly if you’re not a dab hand though.
In Ifaty, a west coast beach resort, try Chez Micheline for fish. Madame Micheline herself is a voluptuous French-Malagesy woman, whose sarong struggles to constrain her ample bosoms, and whose lips struggle to contain ample teeth. She serves the best poached barracuda in Ifaty (population 12 tourist hotels and a zebu). Make sure you pronounce her name correctly too, to avoid awkward allusions to the Michelin Man.

Zebu is a speciality in the central highlands: it is an ox-like animal which looks ridiculous yet tastes sublime. Zebu tongue is tender if cooked correctly, but otherwise can be rubbery, and reminiscent of kissing that fat girl in high school.

At Chez Alice in Isalo, the female manager is definitely a specialty. Come 9:30pm she changes into a plunging red cocktail dress, turns the dance music up and asks tourist to show whether they were wearing g-strings or not (at which point one of two older French customers, balding with long sideburns, lifts a pair of brown y-fronts high above his waistline).