shrimp + grits… + bananas?

i’m not a big fan of banana. i have to be in the mood to eat a banana, or else resigned to accept its overly-sweet flavor in exchange for its nutritional or culinary value. if it finds its way into a smoothie, trust, it has not been invited for its taste but rather its textural function; much honey + other fruits are added to mask the deviant crop. i will admit to being an adamant fan of any auntie’s banana pudding + my mother’s homemade banana bread must be consumed one good time a year. but other than that, banana can kick rocks.

my friend Tahirah, who grew up with banana plants shimmying across her backyard, insists that my disdain for the fruit is due to the poor quality of banana found in the states. i have no doubt that she’s right. there are a slew of foods that once tried from a less processed food system, completely outshine the three decades of eating i have under my belt. (one time Tahirah gifted me an avocado her father grew “back home”. fam. i could have cried, that avocado was so GOOD + it was quite clear that i had never tasted a real one before that moment… but that’s another story.) so, i put my faith in Tahirah that once we traveled “back home” to St. Croix, she would make sure that i tasted a banana truly worthy of its name.

finally, we stood barefoot in Tahirah’s childhood kitchen as she + her father laid out various fruits for us to taste + try. star fruit, bell apple, jojo + more all lined on damp paper towels on the counter in front of us. as my companion, Ashley, chatted away with Tahirah’s father, Errol, i was focused on one particular fruit among the melange: that damned banana. truly, i was excited. god, what would a real banana actually taste like? would i love it? would i be properly + wholly turned off by stateside bananas?

Errol began to introduce us to the new fruit friends, instructing us on what to eat first so as to not overpower our palate, eventually stating, “you’ll be able to taste what a real banana tastes like.” “daddy, we’ve been talking about this!” Tahirah gestured to me + i explained my dislike of the elongated berry (did you know banana is botanically classified as a berry? #awed). “really?” Ashley was surprised to learn of this offense. “cause you get all the crappy ones in the states,” Tahirah’s word was definitive. “probably,” i replied before, finally, bravely biting into the banana.

i took my time, chewing contemplatively. my first + most honest thought was simply, “nah.” that fruit was doing nothing for me + from the flavor coating my tongue to the wet, mushy sound of my own chewing, i was thoroughly turned off. i will however, fully admit that the taste is indeed different. distinctively so. it’s hard to describe other than by saying that it’s not as “banana-y”. part of my dislike of bananas (as opposed to other foods i may not be as fond of) is that the flavor is so aggressive. it explodes across the back of the tongue, lingering long after swallowing. i can almost imagine a haze of banana fog hovering over my tongue for long, laborious minutes. this banana however, was forgiving in flavor, it wasn’t a guest overstaying its welcome. it simply was, + then wasn’t. the texture, too, was more pleasant. not as grainy, nothing leaving a filmy footprint. it was very smooth, like custard.

but still, i was not a fan, so that was pretty much the last banana i ate on the trip.

that is, until we dined at 40 Strand Eatery, right off the boardwalk in Christenstead. 40 Strand is a cute diner style cafe, with rooms for seating on either side of a tiny, cobblestone side-street. Ashley + i nearly decide against eating here; most of the patrons (+ all the staff in sight) were white + walking in we receive quite a few looks being the only black folks. luckily, just as we were starting to leave + look for another restaurant, a young black server with a gorgeously coiffed head of locs came sauntering out of the kitchen. we were noticeably relieved as she showed us to our seats + we communicated our gratitude in seeing another black face in a gaggle of laughing + talking over each other. finally we were able to turn to our menus.

there, standing proudly in the bottom right corner, was my quarry for the night: Voodoo Shrimp + Grits. for those who don't know, i love shrimp + grits. it's one of my signature dishes + i have made it somewhat of a specialty of mine. i've tried many a shrimp + grits dish so testing the Crucian chefing capabilities was a must. especially after reading the ingredients. first up: banana.

sitting on the shared bed in our Air BnB, i frowned down at the menu on my phone screen. "so, 40 Strand has a shrimp + grits dish -" "ooh," Ashley answered from across the suite, "that's meant just for you, boo!" i agree, "definitely. but listen to the ingredients, "banana, allspice, hab-" "banana?" Ashley wrinkled up her nose, confused + recalling our conversation from earlier in the trip. "banana? Ha! are you gonna try it?" we shared a laugh. "i mean, i'm intrigued. + i kinda feel like i have to."

our server (+ new girlfriend) assured us that it's one of the oldest standing + most popular dishes. "banana, allspice, habanero, chorizo, rum...." i mulled over thoughts about this banana. how + where was the flavor going to work on grits? i know it's not banana slices....

finally, the Voodoo Shrimp + Grits arrived. so pretty: a solid mound of grits, seasoned, topped with a blessed amount of juicy shrimp, with a fried egg, tipped flirtatiously to the side, like a Sunday hat. everything was dressed in a sauce that smelled of warmth + zest, it's body speckled with bits of spice. chopped parsley had been rained upon the mountain of goodness. my mouth was watering in anticipation + after a few photographic attempts i decided my hastily snapped pictures would have to do; i had to try it + now. i broke the delicate yoke as i cut my fork into the mountain, swam my bounty across the saucy seas + raised my dripping creation to my hungry mouth. the sensation, was pure awe.

"Ashely. Ashley." she looked up, ready to be amazed. “the banana works." "shut the f*ck up." she looked incredulous. i nodded my head while chewing. "i don't know how but it works." "are you serious? can i try?" i slid the plate eagerly across the table. she brought a forkful of grits, shrimp + the juicy goodness swimming around the plate to her mouth. she chewed deliberately her face lighting up in surprise. "you taste it?!" i exclaim. the banana flavor is present, front + center but something about its marriage to spice + heat tempered it, perfectly. "wow! no way." we exchanged explicit exclamations back + forth before i declared with surety that i was very impressed. as i ate i could identify that the banana was in the sauce along with the allspice + rum. it was so perfectly balanced. in that moment, i loved banana. i applauding it for being the star of the show, begged for its acknowledgment of my devotion with greedy gulps, worshiping lips just short of slurping from the plate. wow. banana.

cooking is a practice in harmonizing. orchestrating various different tones + flavors, melding them together into something sweet + palatable. it is an art of delicate balance. a science + a dance. i’m sure there is some chemistry involved that gifted cooks + chefs are innately privy to. i didn’t get a chance to meet the chef at 40 Strand, as after dinner Ashley + i engaged in an animated debate regarding politics + thought it best to see ourselves out. but i’m sure whoever was back there chefing it up definitely had some gifted hands. cause i’m still thinking about that shrimp + grits… + banana.

awed by banana. hungry for 40 Strand's Voodoo Shrimp + Grits.