Jamaica has been a hot spot for sun-worship and water sports for years. The sand is clean, the water is undulating shades of turquoise and green, and the palm trees sway seductively. Maybe you're a fan of reggae, the island's national music. Many people don't realize, however, that Jamaica has great food, too. Jerk chicken, you say? Yes, of course, there is jerk chicken, but there's more to it than that.

Jerk Pros

Since it is the most well known of Jamaican dishes-and with good reason-I will begin with jerk. Jerk is a seasoning blend of cinnamon, ginger, allspice (which Jamaicans call pimento), cloves, thyme, garlic, onions, and most importantly, chiles-that is what gives jerk seasoning its kick. Secondary ingredients vary across Jamaica and the blend is used as both a dry rub and as a paste. It is most often used on chicken and pork but is also applied to other meats, seafood, and vegetables.

Self-respecting Jamaicans will make their own jerk from scratch, which means buying the spices whole and grinding them. After the spices are ground, they are mashed with the chiles, aromatics, and whatever else the cook likes in a mortar and pestle (traditionally) or in a food processor, and rubbed generously onto meat. The meat is allowed to sit for several hours to overnight and then is barbecued. (In the case of vegetables, the jerk seasoning is applied just before cooking.)

Jerk was invented to preserve meat in the tropical Caribbean heat. The term jerk is believed to have derived from an Arawak word, charqui, referring to the process of turning meat over a fire (and it is also related to jerky). The actual origin of jerk is a bit disputed but the popular theory is that it began with the Maroons, a group of black slaves freed by Spanish landowners when they fled from invading British troops.

Up until my trip to Jamaica, I had only sampled a small quantity of jerk, toned down to accommodate American (i.e., feeble) palates, so I was eager to experience the real thing at its source. Now, I knew jerk was spicy. Jamaican friends spoke fondly of their national dish and I knew that they liked it with octane. But I was not prepared for the complete and utter annihilation of my taste buds. The first bite was spicy but not overwhelming. The second bite, hotter but still tolerable. By the third bite, the spices of the first two nibbles had settled across my tongue and in the back of my throat. My glands began to heat, and it radiated up through my head. I thought I was going to die. I shoveled globs of rice into my mouth. I sucked down half my margarita in hopes of squelching the fire. After a minute, I felt better. Then I ate some more jerk and repeated the whole process.

by Roberta Roberti