I went from the comic shop to my very first Jamaican food experience. I was greeted by overwhelming spices, soap operas blasting on the corner TV and a short elderly woman lounging in a recliner.
I showed up to the dinner table in my ninja suit and pulling out a large butterfly knife to cut my meat. We were having Vaca Frita (Cuban Fried Beef) and my butter knife just wasn’t sharp enough.
I’ve never been a food “snob,” whatever that means. I can even see the positive side of a gas station chili cheeseburger cooked in a greasy microwave.