powder, onion powder, and sugar—are a perfect example of how
he filters his Jamaican food knowledge through the prism of the
French culinary techniques he picked up at the CIA and Daniel; he
uses them in a cassoulet.
“It’s almost like an oxtail chili,” he says as he stirs together the
shredded oxtail meat, cannellini beans, beets, and carrots. “The
French just put it in their language and charge a lot more for it.”
The beet and the carrot are there for color—“We eat with our
eyes first,” he says—but their flavor contributes a great deal too.
“Booyah!” he exclaims as he takes his first bite.
If Powell takes great pleasure in the Jamaican food that he
cooks at home, he also cooks it with a measure of pride. “Rum
cake is a staple in Jamaica,” he says as he begins unwrapping a
rum cake that’s been curing for a few days wrapped in wax paper
and plastic, seasoned every so often with more rum. “It’s only had
a few times of the year—Christmas and at weddings. Those are
the only times you can spare the money.”
This particular recipe comes from Nathalie’s mother (“She
would be so proud to have you share the recipe,” Nathalie told
me) and is an extravaganza of spices (cinnamon and nutmeg),
molasses, and, of course, white rum. “The biggest secret of the
cake is the rum,” says Powell. “Use J. Wray and Nephew, if you
can find it.”
It’s a shame that Powell’s daily customers don’t get to
experience the accomplished Jamaican food that he makes at home
(the smart ones know to ask for his specialties off the menu). The