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Caribbean Heritage Month at LACC: Spotlight on Cookbooks

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By Artis Trice, second-year student in the Master of Arts in Latin American Studies (MALAS) program. His research focuses on Jamaican food and the diaspora in Georgia and Florida.  

Display of cookbooks in LACC

“Not every Jamaican restaurant has that ‘hit yuh’ taste,” my aunt told me as we were wrapping up an interview for my research. I interviewed six of my family members who migrated to the United States between 1980 and the early 2000’s to learn how access to Jamaican food evolved over the last 25 years. They all responded to my question “Why do you make Jamaican food?” in a few different ways. They shared stories of migration, homesickness, deportation, and food insecurity throughout their early years in Florida and Georgia. In my aunt’s case, she made Jamaican food because she didn’t like the way some restaurants prepared their food.  

I laughed when she shared that response, knowing that the “hit yuh” taste is not a punch in the mouth, but rather a flavor profile that mimics how a dish would taste in Jamaica. After leaving Jamaica, she, like my other family members, craved the familiar tastes of home. Jamaican restaurants were not popular in the late 80’s and early 90’s in Atlanta and Miami. So those who wanted a taste of home had to cook. My family members recalled the first time they saw a small section of their supermarket’s shelves filled with canned callaloo, saltfish (salted codfish) fritter mix, and the snacks and sodas they would have found in Jamaica.  

In Atlanta, I’m surrounded by talented friends and family that prepare excellent Jamaican dishes. We have at least six Jamaican restaurants to choose from within a 15-minute drive anywhere you go. Moving from Atlanta to Gainesville in August 2024 confirmed my aunt’s comments: not every restaurant has that “hit yuh” taste. The options in North Central Florida are more limited. Through the community I’ve made over this year, I’ve found hidden gems of Caribbean food around Gainesville, which I will continue to treasure. However, the reality of grad school kicked in, and the luxury of eating Jamaican food out was something I could no longer afford. Since I could not afford a taste of home, I had to make it myself. I challenged myself to get into the kitchen and checked out cookbooks from the Latin American and Caribbean Collection for inspiration.  

I’m learning to downsize my portions and make meals for one instead of three. But, I can’t help but make an extra-large pot of soup. Preparing a Jamaican meal for myself always feels selfish. Having a taste of home means very little if no one else is around to enjoy it. Marie Mitchell says it best: “Sharing is at the heart of my cooking, and it is at the heart of Kin.”  

I found Marie Mitchell’s Kin: Caribbean Recipes for the Modern Kitchen while searching for modern Caribbean cookbooks. Her work is nothing short of a love letter to the diaspora and those who long for a taste of home. Making Caribbean food provides her with comfort as she navigates the loss of her family members, combining a passion project into work that nourishes both her and her community. Based in the United Kingdom, Mitchell’s experiences are shared by many Caribbean people in the diaspora. The recipes, short narratives and pictures weave together intimate memories of homesickness, community, grief, and joy. Out of all the cookbooks I’ve checked out this year, Kin fed and nourished me beyond my expectations. 

Cover image for Marie Mitchell's cookbook "KIN: Caribbean Recipes for the Modern Kitchen"

The recipes use ingredients that are easily found in grocery stores and farmers markets. Relying on the limited Afro-Caribbean stores nearby, Mitchell’s mother stocked up on essentials when she traveled out of her neighborhood. It’s from this experience that Marie Mitchell pulls inspiration, crafting recipes with ingredients that are accessible regardless of where the reader calls home.   

Fortunately, I did not break the habit of cooking for four. The servings in Kin ranged from four to six people, which allowed me to share new and familiar tastes with my friends and family. Growing up, I did not have much vegetarian soup, and much less with plantain. The vegetarian Saturday Soup featured in Kin was a hit with my mother and sister. The boiled plantain and fresh corn gave the soup a refreshing body, while the scotch bonnet pepper gave the soup a comforting spice. The Honey Jerk Wings have a sweet heat that gave a new twist to jerk chicken, which is a hard flavor to achieve in the oven alone. In Atlanta, we know wings. In Jamaica, we know jerk. This recipe came together beautifully, creating a warm Jamaican American fusion. For a delicious drink, B’s Pineapple Punch is a creamy, sweet dessert drink perfect for a party! My family members were surprised at how sweet the drink turned out. The balance of condensed milk and pineapple juice gives the drink a dessert-like quality that countered the heat of the jerk.  

While I am always searching for that “hit yuh” taste, preparing those recipes in Kin and sharing them with loved ones brought me closer to home. Marie Mitchell’s new classic is “a book about the food of the Caribbean – and yet, food is a moving constant, which evolves as time and people move forward” (p. 236). Marie Mitchell employs Sankofa, an Akan word meaning going forward while acknowledging the past. Recalling home through Caribbean food, Kin celebrates family, cherished memories, and tastes that connect the diaspora and all people that love Caribbean food.  

For Caribbean American Heritage Month, check out the LACC’s cookbook display to bring a taste of the Caribbean home. 

Selected books in LACC: 

Browse the library catalog to find additional resources.