Island Delight: What a Jerk!

Outside the Comfort Zone: Island Delight

Every now and then we all need to get outside our comfort zones by trying something different. You know, like paying your child support on time or drilling oil wells a mile deep in the Gulf. My comfort zone for lunch is your typical fried chicken with three sides with some hot cornbread muffins and real butter. But today I ate lunch where they serve "beef" oxtails (get your mind around that thought) and "Curry Goat":

Is there an Ox-Oxtail?

Where was I, you ask? Well I ventured out onto Airbase Boulevard, within the shadow of the entrance to Maxwell AFB on the west side of the Gump, and tried the Caribbean fare at "Island Delight." Undeterred by the bars on the windows, I entered and found a well-lit, clean and friendly place with several out-of-the-ordinary meat selections: Jerk chicken, King fish, beef oxtails and curry goat. The "sides" were also out of the box. I'd heard of but never had fried plantains before. But the thing that caught my eye was the "festival" which I had never ever heard of before. I decided to stick with the more conservative choice so I ordered jerked chicken. "Jerked" chicken is not obnoxious chicken with an attitude that won't return your calls. "Jerked" chicken is roasted/grilled after being rubbed with a "jerk" seasoning (sort of like beef jerky). At Island Delight the jerk chicken was delicious and not greasy. The extra "jerk" sauce on the side had a little kick which I supplemented with the Jamaica hot sauce on the table. Before I dug in the plate looked like this:

Almost enough to feed Tojo!

Everything, the vegetables, rice with beans and jerked chicken was terrific. Hell, it might even have been good for me when compared to a greasy meat and three. But the discovery of the week was that little brown thing you see at the left of the chicken and below the tub of jerk sauce: That, my friends, is a "festival." What, you ask, is a "festival"? Well it is sort of a sweet fried cornbread that kicks most of the so-called cornbread offerings in the Gump in the butt. Now I certainly don't know how to cap a mile-deep oil well blow-out. But I do know my cornbread and I could eat a lot of this festival stuff. It's light and tasty and needs no extra butter. It melts in the mouth.

If you are the skittish type and like to eat among yuppies, this Island Delight is not your place. But if you have a little adventuresome spirit and a group looking to eat off the usual menu, I can highly recommend this little hole in the wall on the "other" Boulevard. Next time I may even try the oxtails!

Micro-Gump: Witnessing the Resurrection of Bama Bistro

Much like the witnesses of the Lazarus story of old, I have witnessed the resurrection of Bama Bistro. And much like the believers who are able to read the account of the miraculous events from the Good Book, you, my dear blog reader, are able to receive the Good News about a the little local restaurant that could. But wait, I am getting ahead of myself.

In the beginning, a man created a restaurant. It was a modest establishment, trying to serve the good people of the Gump a good meal while they waste their lives away working for The Man Downtown. I had heard tale of such a place but, sadly, it was only in the past tense. Upon my first encounter with this restaurant, which shall be called Bama Bistro, I saw nothing but a locked door and, behind the smoggy glass windows, chairs stacked up on tables and a pile of unpaid bills that had been shoved under the door by a disgruntled worker for the U.S. government who is oblivious to the fact that this place is obviously CLOSED and those bills ain’t gettin’ paid.

But fear not, my child, for this story is about faith and hope. For, on one fateful day, I received word from a reliable LITG tipster that Bama Bistro had reopened.

And it was so.

I asked for mercy and forgiveness; how could I, calling myself a Gumpian, deny patronage to a local eatery right in the heart of downtown and owned by a simple man just trying to get by in this transitory life? Perhaps he had only needed one more customer, and those bills could have been paid. Alas, I seized on the second chance that I had been given. For if not me, who? And if not now, when? And so, with great thanksgiving, I accepted the first bequest that I received to visit this establishment and congratulate the owner on his resurrection.

And it was good.

I partook of the jerk chicken sandwich. Tasty, with a little kick to it. I wept. Yet it was not too spicy, like how sometimes Indian food makes my head itch. The surroundings were humble; a rather narrow space but enough tables and chairs for the modest crowd. I believe that the location was formerly Boomer T’s. I heard gospel music from the portable radio set on the counter. The service was friendly and there was a slight glow about the place, almost like a halo.

My companion had the chicken tetrazzini, affectionately referred to as the “chicken tet” at Bama Bistro:


My friends, I can testify that I personally witnessed that dish be devoured within minutes. There is no better compliment to a good meal than fast consumption.

I did not try the daily specials, but I would fully expect them to be strong in caliber. They are certainly set at a fair price:








And so, to you unbelievers, I ask that you renew your faith. Visit the Bama Bistro and you will not be disappointed. Seek, and ye shall find. Knock, and the door shall be opened. But if it does not open, and instead you find nothing but a pile of unpaid bills, you will only have yourselves to blame. And I will wash my hands of you.




Posted originally on http://www.lunchinthegump.com/