There’s a moment in every new parent’s life when you realise that you are no longer starring in your own show. There were already signs of this at our daughter’s christening but the revelation has come in of all places, St Lucia.
Having barely cracked the baby care routine at home, the last thing we’d expected to be doing with our five month old was wintering for a fortnight in the Caribbean, but bizarrely with me having won a prize draw at a work event, we find ourselves at a newly opened luxury resort right between those twin St Lucia volcanic spire landmarks, the Pitons.
Jalousie Plantation has notoriety built in as it’s the new plaything of Lord Glenconner, who having grown tired of the society magnet he had so successfully created on the island of Mustique moved here a couple of years ago and built a collection of red gingerbread cottages for paying guests which dot the hillside above Sugar Beach, each with its own postage stamp sized pool and tropical garden. Overlooking it all is Beau House, the mid-1700s plantation home that Glenconner, and his pet elephant ‘Bupa’ occupy. It’s a weird brand of eccentric tropical feudalism, and apparently the locals were less than impressed with an all inclusive resort being created in this iconic location, but somehow he got the green light. There has been no sign of either his lordship, nor of his pet pachyderm whilst we have been here- a pity really as our daughter would certainly love to have met the latter.
It’s a good thing it’s warm as most of the space in our suitcases was occupied with every conceivable baby ‘necessity’ and for the first few days we have settled happily into the new feeding régime that the resort imposes, (turns out that ‘all inclusive’ which we have never experienced before, is pretty damned perfect for newbie parents).
It may be the absence of the pet elephant on site, or the complete lack of any human baby rivals, but we seem to have become a mobile petting zoo ourselves, as literally every other guest and member of staff at this place wants to meet and greet our tiny ‘celebrity’, whether she’s ‘swimming’ in the pool, propped up in an armchair in the bar, or ‘dancing’ on my shoulders after dinner.
The routine is a blessing, but as ever after a few days, curiosity has gotten the better of us and we have broken camp for a few hours to visit the island’s old capital, Soufrière which is a few minutes south of here. Founded by French sugar plantation owners in 1746 and rebuilt several times after five hurricanes, a fire and a major earthquake, this lovely little town was fought over by the British and French for more than half a century, changing hands fourteen times and though you might think its name connotes ‘suffering’, Soufrière actually refers to its ‘sulphurous air’ and volcanic activity. We came for its bustling Saturday morning market but were sidetracked by an unforgettable Jerk Pork. Cooked the traditional way in a smoke pit by the beach, this is barbecue at its most visceral, and the Jerk spice rub used- a mixture of Scotch Bonnet, All Spice and other herbs and spices, combined with the 95 degree heat, called for the consumption of a great many bottles of Piton- the rather predictably named local brew.
Jerk Pork: Serves Four
We first had pit barbecue on our honeymoon in Port Antonio, Jamaica but this one in Soufrière was especially delicious. The Jerk Spice rub will work its magic equally well on just about any type of meat, fish or even tofu.
4 pork chops
1 Habanero Pepper, with or without seeds, roughly chopped (almost as hot as Scotch Bonnet and more readily available)
1 oz ground allspice
4 whole green onions, chopped
2 bay leaves, roughly chopped
1 tsp salt
1/2 tsp pepper
3 tbsp oil
Place all the ingredients, except for the pork chops, in a food processor, process until a paste is formed. Rub the paste over the chops and refrigerate overnight. Cook on the grill, over direct heat for just 1 minute on each side, then, indirect heat until it is just cooked through. Do not think the meat has been burned; it’s just that the rub is very dark and becomes even darker when it’s grilled. Serve with rice, beans and greens.
While we sat on the sand and ate, our daughter slept soundly in her sling, her head shaded by a little white sailor cap. A group of young kids were playing boisterously on the wooden pier and Sabrina and I wondered aloud at how this little person who is our whole world, will turn out.
It’s our last night here and we are rolling the dice. Normally, the three of us would be having dinner together in the main dining room, but we’ve hired an extremely expensive baby sitter to watch over our little one and have booked a romantic table for two in the resort’s second restaurant, which charges a hefty supplement. Drinking a toast to our good fortune, we are initially oblivious of the Maître d’ who is hovering anxiously by our table with a cordless phone. We are re-united a few minutes later with our now beautifully behaved daughter, who the babysitter said had screamed incessantly from almost the moment we left the room. Attempting to salvage the evening we place her under our table with Sabrina’s handbag, knowing that she will amuse herself for a while by removing and playing with the contents. It doesn’t work for more than a few minutes, so expensive lesson learned we beat a hasty retreat and have the meal delivered to our room.
I love jerk pork!
Living in Brooklyn, there's a large Caribbean community and many, many restaurant reflecting the cuisine of various islands. Jerk chicken is ubiquitous, but the pork version is considerably more rare.
I've never tried to make it myself, but this recipe seems a great starting point!
What a wonderful prize to win in an office draw. This excellent article brought memories of juggling children and exotic holidays flooding back, though I'm not sure we ever placed our offspring under the table when we we eating!!