So I am sitting here in West Virginia, listening to the rain hit roof and day dreaming. I remember back on the island wanting to use the coal pot
So I can cook up some food. But damn it, the rain was pounding on the galvanize roof, the wind was whipping the coconut branches, Stray dogs lay under the banana tree using the big leaves as shelter. Man I wanted to cook on the bloody coal pot, not the stove. So I brought the coal pot into the kitchen, fill it with coals, pour a little kerosene on it and blazed it up. Peeled the green bananas and plantains, washed the sweet potatoes, yams, tanyas, got out the avocados. Now all the provisions were ready for cooking. Then its time to wash out the salt fish I had soaking, get some onions, garlic, tomatoes and seasoning, put the frying pan on the coal pot, poured some coconut oil in there and fry up the salt fish, oh man, that scent mixed in with the smoke that bellowed out of the kitchen. Now my belly rumbling, the rain was real heavy outside now, there was something about rain and smoke I liked. When the salt fish was done, it was time to boil the provisions. Only one drink will go with this meal, a nice, tall, cold glass of guava juice,
ahhh yes. And when all is prepared, I sat in the veranda, watching the rain fall, eating the food made for a tropical king.