Sunday, March 14. Later Start. Jerks Island. Daylight Saving Time began last night. Since we didn't get home from last night's celebration until midnight Standard, it was great to sleep clear until nine Daylight. I awoke feeling fine, despite having three Sazeracs (albeit small ones) last night at the Jesuit party.
I shackled myself to my desk most of the day. I have to create an Easter page for the website--a first-time edition, so it will take time. Among other things. And Jude will arrive tomorrow, and his welcome presence here for spring break will surely take up a lot of my time this week.
But the Marys got hungry. And they had an idea: the Jerks Island Grill, which they find charming enough that they've been there twice in the three weeks it's been open. Those who go over my words with a fine sieve will find a violation of my six-month rule (the one that doesn't exist) that keeps me from going to new restaurants. However, all such policies are superseded by the desires of my girls, who I must please so as to assure domestic tranquillity.
Jerk Island Grill is a one of a kind, but it looks and acts like a unit of a chain. Greg Reggio--one of the three chefs who own Zea and created Semolina--has been working there in a consulting role. That's a good sign, and means the food won't be out-and-out terrible.
The place was packed. That disappointed Mary Ann, who wanted one of the tables on the patio in front. After a short wait, we took a table next to a window. Everything about the place suggests the tourist cafes one finds throughout the Caribbean. The menu is full of dishes you've heard of in articles about Jamaican, Haitian, and Antillean cuisine, but with recipes translated into American.
The girls began with a pile of chips and salsa and guacamole, both of which were good enough. The guacamole was really closer to a chunky avocado salad, but there's nothing wrong with that.
Then came an appetizer Mary Ann deemed essential: bottle rockets. These are bread-crumb-crusted jalapeno peppers stuffed with cheese, stuck on the ends of bamboo skewers, and brought to the table mounted in a Red Stripe beer bottle. Oh, yeh--there's also a lit sparkler in there. Mary Ann liked the jalapenos; they reminded me of the kind of thing restaurants buy completely assembled in frozen form, cast into the fryer, and send right out. (Like those fried, breaded mozzarella appetizers you see everywhere.) My favorite part of this was taking a picture of it.
I had a bowl of black bean soup, which looked and tasted more like red bean soup, but not bad at that. Three mini-biscuits were floating in there to no obvious reason. By the time I was finished with that, the girls were into the second basket of chips and salsa, and loving it. I kept my side of the table busy with the shanty salad, a standard pile of mixed greens with cucumbers and tomatoes, and shredded cheese. Does anyone who gives any thought to it actually like the idea of shredded cheese over a salad? I don't think it works at all.
Mary Ann made an entree out of the chicken wings appetizer. She said they were just okay--too sweet, was her main problem. Mary Leigh had the hamburger and gave it a pretty-good.
I had the best main course. Jerk pork sliders were a variation on the tacos, inside the little buns that confer the slider status. Also in there with the shredded pork was a spicy, tangy cole slaw and something called reggae sauce, the latter adding a balancing sweetness. These were actually delicious, and had only one minor problem: too much bread. Next time, I'll disembowel one of the sliders and divide its innards among the two others.
It's too soon to call this a strike or a ball, but it already looks more like a place than a restaurant. Since that's what the mainstream market seems to like best (especially on the North Shore, which has Houston aspects). The menu range seems too limited to me to keep pulling them in over the long term, but what do I know?
Jerks Island Grill. Covington: 70437 Highway 21. 985-893-1380.
