Oxtail, curry goat, rice and peas, escovitch fish, brown stew chicken, festival, sorrel, Easter bun — the food you grew up on and never got the recipe for. Forty years of my kitchen, set down the old way, before it's lost.
Everything here — the Bible and the starter beside it — for one payment. No subscription, yours forever.
A pot of oxtail or a big rice and peas feeds the whole table the better part of a week. Here's a month of Jamaican takeout against a month cooked from the book.
Illustrative, not a promise — your real number depends on how often you buy out now and what the market charges where you live. But the dollars are the least of it. What you're really keeping is the knowing itself, and that doesn't come back once it's gone.
Set down the way you'd actually cook it — the measured way to start, and the by-feel knowing beside it, so none of it gets lost.
One page from Kitchen III — the festival that goes with everything.
I grew up in the hills of Manchester, learning to cook on a coal stove beside my own grandmother — reading the pot by smell, seasoning by hand, measuring nothing. I fed family, I fed church, I fed anybody who passed through my gate.
Now I'm settled abroad near my grandchildren, and I've watched too many good recipes go quiet when the last hands that held them were gone. So I'm putting mine down — every one, the old way, by feel and by memory — so my food outlives me, and so your children can taste where they come from.
No, sweetheart. Every recipe starts with the measured way — real cups, real minutes — and the by-feel trick sits right beside it for when you're ready. The First-Pot Starter gives you three dishes to make this weekend that'll prove you can.
The real ones. Oxtail browned down proper, rice and peas with the coconut, escovitch with the pickle. This is the food as it's cooked in a Jamaican home, not softened for anybody.
It's a digital book — a PDF in your inbox within a minute of ordering. Read it on your phone propped against the flour bag while you cook, on a tablet, or a computer, or print the pages you use most. Pay once; it's yours, and every new recipe I add comes free.
Mostly yes — most are in any supermarket, and the book tells you the easy swaps for the few island things and where to look. The Yard-Talk Measure Card turns "a hand of thyme" into something you can shop for.
Absolutely. If you've fallen for the flavours and want the real thing instead of a watered-down version, come in. Auntie feeds everybody who passes through.
Forty years of my kitchen, written down so your table — and your children's table — always has the taste of home on it.
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