Ahhh, supper time on the island. Daydreams, take me away.
I have not had breadfruit in a while, hmmmmm, this summer, I will eat myself into a dream land. All island food all the time.
Somewhere on the island, someone is eating a great lunch.
Ohhhhh yes, Mommy Charles used to make the best, oh the house would smell soo gooood when she fix up some Oil Down.
Ohh yes, all I could say is yum
Yum, with cross buns
Neighbourooooo, you don smell de pot bubbling, de boi dem cook arready you know. Dem done clean de calaloo, cut up de vegetable dem, found wood for the fire, and now de pot bubbling for so. Yeah mon, we go eat real good today,
Hmmmmm Roti I do believe.
I opened the front door and it hit me, the scent of fresh seafood cooking, ahhh yes I can smell the chives, the onions, the garlic, the sage, the peppers, and what is that? ahh yes a hint of nutmeg. I walked into the kitchen and sitting on the table is a bowl, steam still rising from it, I leaned in, closed my eyes and sniffed, my nose tingles, my stomach rumbles. Then I heard a voice behind me, “Wah you doing?” I turned around and my brother stood behind me/ “I was just going to eat,” I said, My brother stepped forward. “No yuh not, dat is my ital.,” he said, I looked and him and smiled, “Dat wah you tink, as far as I could see me is de one standing closest to it. ” My brother looked a little indecisive. I mean, I had a point, and I had the advantage. As we stood arguing over the one plate feast before us, Mommy charles silently walked into the room, picked up the plate and walked out. My brother and I stood looking at each other for a second. “Mamie, wey ours?” My brother asked. Well as Mommy Charles always said, ask a stupid question, get a stupid answer, “All you is grown men, cook yuh own food,”