Yo! We’re back from Jamaica, and, as promised, I ate me some jerk chicken. See it up there? It was my first meal in Jamaica. The first of many. Many, many meals. What am I trying to say here? I ate a lot of food. I even ate the airplane breakfast, which, according to my journal from 2008, featured four Tater Tots instead of five. Damn cutbacks!
I ate at buffets, a beach party, a Japanese hibachi grill, an Italian bistro, and the naked pool lunch. I ate something called Rasta Pasta, which I think was code for “dump last night’s leftovers in a pan and give it a colorful name and stupid tourists will eat it.” I had lots of fish and rice and vegetables and then made up for that by eating french toast and bacon sandwiches doused in brown sugar and syrup with a side of more bacon.
But the highlight of my vacation eating adventure was a simple Jamaican dish.
Long ago, the ancient Jamaicans discovered a strange and delicious root. It became the centerpiece of this native dish that would endure, unchanged, for centuries. In the local patois, it is known as Cool Runnings Dutchy. But I have given it a more contemporary name:
French Fry Salad!
Oh, mon. Those ancient Jamaicans knew a good thing when they found it. Iceberg lettuce, french fries, and a dousing of Thousand Island dressing. Tomatoes optional. Of course, I could make this at home, but the point is: I never would. To partake of something this exotic and forbidden, you simply must leave the country.
But wait! I did a lot more in Jamaica besides eat. OK, not a lot more, but . . . some more. And yes, most of it was done in the nude. I know that’s what you really want to hear about, and I shan’t disappoint you. In fact, you get to choose the nude(ish) photo that will be featured at the top my next post.
In your comment, simply include your choice:
I want to see . . .
Choose wisely. Patois optional.
Yikes! Save me from Humor-Blogs anonymity!