Jamaican Me Unlikely to Return

I expect my jerk chicken to be spicy. As in scotch-bonnet, melt-off-my-mouth-skin spicy. I also expect allspice, thyme and quite a bit of variation after that. I also expect that at certain restaurants, even if they serve true come-to-Jesus flaming-hot food, they serve it quite a bit despicee for the majority of the clientele. OK, then—contingency plan says I ask for hot sauce. Tonight’s visit to Jamerica (1236 Williamson St., Madison), friends, was not that. This “jerk” was $14 crockpot chicken with the barest hint of dried thyme, along with some bethymed cabbage and rice. This was what I imagine Wasp chicken tastes like.

And then the waitress told me they were out of hot sauce.

Out of hot sauce? As in sorry, we don’t have flavor tonight?

The waitress did not see, I assume, the dozen unopened bottles of hot sauce on a wall shelf in front of me as she said this. Or the grocery store across the street. However, she recouped, finding a bottle of Grace hot sauce at another customer’s table.

I drowned my sorrows and my chicken in it. Sometimes the Forager fails.

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