Jerk Chicken Wings

This post is not (alas!) about something I cooked, but rather something I ate.

There's a small parking garage around the corner from my office that's got a tiny little storefront in it. There have been several different lunch-and-dinner type eateries in it over the last few years.

Thursday, I decided to give the current place another try. I'd had a breakfast there that was just a breakfast, and a pulled-pork sandwich that was okay but accompanied by beans that were pretty good. This time, I had the jerk chicken wings, expecting that they'd probably be too hot, but willing to give it a try.

See, I'm probably a touch more tolerant of spicy food than most people, but a real wimp compared to the true chileheads. It's not hard to get past my threshhold, and the "jerk" dishes I've had tend to do it.

These wings were spectacular. No, not merely spectacular: they were one of the best things I've ever eaten as an adult.* I'm serious: in describing this incident to a friend, I was only able to come up with three things I'd enjoyed more. I'm sure the true list would be longer, but I can't imagine there would be more than a few dozen things on the list.

Yes, the wings were spicy, but not overpoweringly so to my taste. There was a fruity element, almost like the orange chicken at the best Chinese restaurant on the planet. They were a touch saucy, but I didn't need more than the two napkins provided. They were sweet.

I'm serious: these wings tasted like sunshine.

And now I have to learn a bit about Jamaican cooking.

* I have a theory that there are food experiences we have as children that are forever unequaled. I really don't expect to ever taste anything as delicious as the A&W Root Beer Float I had on a really hot summer's day when I was about ten.