The Conversion of a Breakfast Hater
The Conversion of a Breakfast Hater
Ackee and Saltfish in Jamaica
As a kid, I had a hate-hate relationship with breakfast. It mostly consisted of lukewarm, soggy cornflakes before school and even, cruelly, on the weekend. I’m pretty sure that’s what has fueled my irrational hatred of milk.
As a musician, I have spent many a morning in the back of a transit van on the way to a show, where the only breakfast offerings were an Egg McMuffin from dreaded Micky D’s. So imagine my elation when the band that I sing in said we were going to be performing in Jamaica.
My first thoughts were not of tropical weather, lush vegetation or amazing reggae music, but of food, a place my mind often wanders. I have always loved West Indian food. Some of my favorite memories are of my monthly visits to the hairdresser; I hate getting my hair done, but when I was finished there was roti and curry goat from a place in London’s Shepherd’s Bush neighborhood.
But the one West Indian dish I have always detested is ackee and saltfish. I think this stems from once assuming ackee was some kind of egg-based dish and being sorely disappointed. (For your reference, it’s actually a fruit!) But when I saw it on the breakfast menu of my hotel in Kingston, Jamaica, I pushed aside my previous prejudices and decided, when in Rome.
This turned out to be one of my best breakfast decisions of all time. The ackee and saltfish looked insanely pretty on my plate. The saltfish was incredibly fresh; together with the subtle ackee and sweet cherry tomatoes, it was a stunning combination.
Some would argue that lying on a beach in the Caribbean—sun beating down, waves lapping in the background, soft reggae music washing over you from the nearby beach hut, good book in hand—is paradise. I would say not having to leave my hotel room, sitting in a fluffy robe and eating this dish with my hands is a very close second.