One Bite of Jerk Corn on the Cob Takes Me Back to Summer Family Gatherings

Tracing Heritage through Grilled Corn and the Memories of Summer Days

A strong sense of self seems to come with age. I find myself grateful for an aging mother who insists on cooking for me, even though it’s what I do for a living. Food has always been a big part of our family, and memories of eating together continue to shape me today. 

I didn’t grow up cooking, more so eating, but when a look inward told me I needed to cook the food of my culture, I started the best way I knew how—with family recipes. For a couple of years, I cooked alongside my mother, asking her to show me how she made our dinner table’s most prized and requested dishes like sos pwa (Haitian rice and bean sauce), akra (crispy taro root fritters), legim (vegetable stew) and griyo (twice-cooked pork), the versions we grew up eating and loved so much. 

Our home in Queens had a big yard by NYC standards. It was grounded by a Bosc pear tree, a fruiting cherry tree and a small corner dedicated to growing tomatoes, chile peppers, eggplant and my dad’s favorite, corn. Summers were for huge family parties. Our home was a hub for relatives, both those who lived here as well as those visiting from Haiti for business or those immigrating to the United States. Barbecues galore were had, and while the communions and graduations called for lavish catering from Haitian bakeries and friends, all of us dressed in our Sunday best, summer afternoons called for grilling and casual days. My cousins and I ran through the lily, hibiscus and hydrangea lined yard while my mom, dad, aunties and great-aunts filled our outdoor tables with Haitian and American favorites: pink beet-studded Haitian potato salad, BBQ chicken, Haitian mac and cheese and, of course, grilled corn. Hot off the grill, the sweet, golden, blistered kernels were ever so charred and smoky and delicious, kissing my lips. 

On family trips to Haiti, we would pass the roadside vendors also selling this snack. Through my travels around the world, the sight and smell of a regional grilled corn always serves as a reminder of youth and times past as well as how ingredients connect us around the world. Grilled corn means many things to many cultures—in Mexico, there are elotes, in Cambodia, a version gets glazed with coconut, and Kenya has mahindi, where the corn is grilled and rubbed in chile-lime salt, just to name a few.

We opened Sousòl right after opening Kann, my wood-fired restaurant and love letter to Haitian history, culture and ingredients. While Kann focuses on Haiti and Oregon, Sousòl is a cocktail bar where we explore and honor the Caribbean through its drink and food. Jerk may be the king of Caribbean cooking methods, the way the Maroons, the runaway, formerly enslaved people, provided for themselves while seeking safety and solace in the mountains of Jamaica. 

The tradition involves cooking meat in underground pits after rubbing or marinating it with a fiery mix of spices, including allspice and Scotch bonnet. The underground pits served to hide the creation of smoke so as not to give away their location. The indigenous Taino passed this method on to the Maroons, and it carried on as they gained their freedom. Traditionally the meats used were chicken and pork, and it was cooked over indigenous pimento wood. Today, jerk is loved worldwide and holds great meaning to the Caribbean diaspora. Barbecue—and grilling, in itself—represents important and often unsung history. The Taino were slow-cooking food with fire, smoke, spices and sauces far before Christopher Columbus made his way to the Caribbean in 1492.

While jerk is a cooking method and not a sauce, sometimes modern conventions blur the line. A good jerk has a few key ingredients, including chile and spices, and they all play well against the sweetness and char of grilled corn. This dish is on my table all summer and represents my past and present as well as the past and present of those who came before me. In this dish, I feel and taste the memories that define me, as well as the history of how Caribbean people have inspired and made the world a more delicious place even under the most unfair conditions.