Page 30 of Winner Takes All

He laughs as his eyes light up. This man makes me feel wanted. “As fun as the streets are, we better hurry and get back to Mama Lorna’s before she cooks without us.”

We make our way through town, then down another road to a small house nestled in a grove of palm trees where the scent of charcoal smoke and spices fills the air. Mama Lorna is already outside, tending to a grill that looks older than I am. She turns to us and smiles, her face lit up.

“Victor, my boy, so good to see you,” she calls out as she waves us over. He envelopes her in a gentle hug. She then turns to me. “I love that you’ve brought me a beautiful woman to visit with.”

“You know there’s nothing I won’t do for you,” Victor says. “This is Nikki, and I might have her convinced to move here.” Mama Lorna chuckles at this.

“We don’t want your dad coming down here and hunting us all for taking his boy. As much as you’re welcome, you better stick to visiting. Family is essential to our souls,” she tells him. She then turns to me and opens her arms. I gladly accept her hug.

“I’ve heard a lot about you from your son who says you’re a strong, amazing, beautiful mama. Thank you so much for inviting me to your home,” I tell her.

“The pleasure’s all mine,” she says. “We have plenty to do so we better get started.”

“It already smells so good. I’m hoping to learn all of your secrets,” I say as my mouth waters.

She laughs. “Have you made jerk chicken before, Nikki?”

“I’ve attempted it, but it’s never smelled like this,” I tell her.

She again laughs with her dark eyes twinkling. “Flattery will get you everything, child. Let me teach you.”

She hands me a knife and we start on the marinade. I pay close attention to what and how much she’s using. Of course there are no measuring implements. She’s most likely been making this since long before I was born. I don’t use too many measuring devices myself unless I’m baking. When you cook for hours every day you get a feel for how much of each ingredient to add to a dish. There are a lot of taste tests. I’m not sure how I haven’t gained a hundred pounds in the last few years.

We add fresh thyme, scallions, allspice, scotch bonnet peppers, garlic, and a dozen more ingredients to the marinade. I can barely keep up with Mama Lorna who has sure, steady hands, and so much knowledge in her eyes. Victor stands near us, happy to watch me work alongside Mama Lorna. He’s most likely seen her do this a dozen times.

“Will you cut the peppers, Victor?” Mama Lorna asks.

He laughs. “You want me to get the oil on my hands,” he tells her.

“I do remember that one time,” she says with a girlish giggle. She turns to me. “The boy wiped his eye after, then screamed like a little girl. We had to lay him down and flush his eye for a good twenty minutes. He laid there for the next couple of hours with ice on his face. I bet he never makes that mistake again.”

“Oh, that’s bad. I once did that after chopping jalapenos and thought I was dying. I can’t imagine doing it with a hotterpepper. Utter misery. It was certainly a learning moment,” I say. I look at Victor. “Don’t get burned.”

He laughs, his eyes sparkling with mischief. “I can handle the heat.”

I continue mixing my marinade, which comes together beautifully, rich and spicy. I can’t wait to take a taste. Once Victor tags in, he chops a few more things for us, and I really do love working at his side, especially in this beautiful outdoor setting.

Mama Lorna gives us a knowing smile. “You two work well together,” she says. “It’s clear you’ve been doing it for years.”

A blush creeps into my cheeks. “We went to school together. We used to fight a lot more, but since we both love creating dishes, we’ve seemed to find a good rhythm now.”

“It’s beautiful to watch,” she says.

We continue prepping the chicken, then add the spicy marinade while listening to stories from Mama Lorna about her childhood and how she misses cooking with her mother and grandmother. She has me absolutely mesmerized with not only her stories but the sure way her hands move with confidence and grace. I’m learning so much more than the recipe.

Mama Lorna has a whole group coming so we’ll be making a lot of food today. Victor continues cutting the scotch bonnet peppers and his hand slips. He lets out a yelp, then drops the knife and immediately rushes over to the tub of ice water, sinking his hand inside. Mama Lorna laughs.

“You just can’t handle the spice,” she tells him. “These peppers don’t play.”

Victor laughs. “No they don’t.”

“Guess you aren’t as tough as you pretend,” I tell him.

He winks at me. “I’m plenty tough enough to handle you, Nik.”

We continue cooking, our banter light and easy, and the outdoor cooking area filled with the scent of sizzling chicken, the sound of laughter, and rhythmic music. I’m mesmerized by the dancing flames that Mama Lorna manages perfectly.

“I could do this daily,” Victor says.

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