THE REGGAE PLAYING OUT FRONT is muted back in the kitchen where Jason Mitchell, owner of Jerk Kitchen, holds a yellowtail snapper in one hand, dragging a knife across its iridescent pink skin, the last scales flaking off like sequins. It's the same kind of fish he grew up making in Clarendon, Jamaica. "I learned to cook from my aunt Lulu," he says, solemn before flashing a grin. "And she would whip your butt if you make a mistake."
One thing he learned from her was to soak the fish in water with lime and vinegar, "to get the rawness out of the fish so it don't taste fishy." He hisses as a fin pokes his finger. Another lesson: "Ya don't get burned or cut yourself, you're not cooking."
Since buying the Eureka restaurant from fellow Jamaicans Dell Bryan and Joanne Kerr (whose photo hangs by the kitchen doorway) last year, Mitchell has expanded the menu to include the wildly popular jerk tacos, among other things, but kept the main attractions, like jerk chicken and curry. The flavors remain traditional but adapted to local availability. "I change it based on how I feel," he says. He's found butternut squash, for example, is closer to the pumpkin he grew up with than American pumpkin varieties. And when Scotch bonnet peppers aren't handy, he splits and seeds a habanero instead, smelling it to gauge the heat.
And when ackee — a nutty fruit native to West Africa, imported from Jamaica and potentially toxic if harvested and prepared incorrectly — is not available for the Jamaican national dish of ackee and saltfish ($18.95, medium), Mitchell prepares the traditional snapper he learned to make in his high school food and nutrition classes before he started his first restaurant at the age of 18.
"It was a shack," Mitchell says, arms out to trace its dimensions in the air. But in it, he says, he was able to partner with a friend and cook food to sell to his teachers, classmates and neighbors.
Mitchell places half a pepper and garlic in a hot pan of oil, adding flavor and heat. Then he lays the halves of fish, now brick red with spices, into the oil to brown. In a larger pan, he starts to cook bell peppers, onions and squash. He cracks a handful of allspice berries for the pot in a bag on the counter. Allspice, a core ingredient in Jamaican cuisine, always has to be smashed, he says with a wink before sprinkling it into the pot. Finally, the fish goes into the pot with more chiles, potatoes, fresh okra and a few sprigs of thyme. "If I don't have thyme, I do not wanna cook," he says.
After immigrating to the U.S. at 19, Mitchell began cooking in Jamaican restaurants on the East Coast. When he came to Humboldt County in 2017, it wasn't to cook. Instead, he says, he ran a CBD business, but eventually came to feel the industry didn't align with his Rastafarian beliefs. Then he bought Jerk Kitchen and returned to his role as a chef.
Jerk Kitchen's exterior is a bright spot on the street, the entrance flanked by a mural featuring Martin Luther King Jr. and Bob Marley. Inside, mural portraits of Marcus Garvey, Harriet Tubman, late Ethiopian Emperor Haile Selassie and Marley adorn the emerald green and yellow walls, each with quotations about liberation, empowerment and hope. For Mitchell, who was raised by his grandmother and great grandmother, whose own grandmother was enslaved in Jamaica under British rule, the messages are well worth the commissions paid to the artists who painted them. Ask him why he chose these figures and who he'd like to add, and he'll happily hold forth on what they mean to him and the world at large.
People come to Jerk Kitchen "not just for food, but for a lesson and a blessing. The lesson is on the wall or from my mouth, and as soon as you're in the parking lot," he says, snapping his fingers and grinning, "you're blessed."
A fellow Jamaican and cook who goes by the nickname Blacka seems to agree. He has been waiting at the back door for the fish to be ready, breathing in the aroma of the kitchen. He chuckles impishly and rubs his hands together. "I know it's good and I am patient because I am a cook." Once his double order is in hand, he and Mitchell exchange a little banter, and he sets off, light footed across the back lot.
Patience is a particular virtue in cooking Jamaican dishes. The jerk chicken marinates overnight in Mitchell's own spice blend before going on the grill out back to cook under a watchful eye to achieve its flavorful, char-kissed exterior without burning or drying out. The stewed oxtail ($21.95, medium) and the curry goat ($18.95, medium) take hours in the pressure cooker for the meat to leave the bone with the gentlest coaxing.
On a recent evening, a takeout customer drove back to tell Mitchell that if there's an award for oxtails, he should have it. Another man reached over to drop a trio of pungent cannabis nugs the size of broccoli florets beside the credit card swiper by way of appreciation.
The firm, starchy plantains ($4.95), belly-warming chicken curry ($14.95, medium), and fluffy rice and peas ($5.95) have their following, too. It's wise to call ahead for quick sellouts, like the oxtails and the baked macaroni and cheese, from which a fork draws an impressive cheese pull ($6.50).
Served over coconut rice, the snapper has a seasoned crust for the sauce to cling to — a little heat and melded flavors to offset the white flesh and the oilier meat at the head. The okra is tender and the potatoes, too, have absorbed the fragrant broth.
"All right respect, respect! Powers, powers!" calls Mitchell as one of his regulars heads out. He's all smiles turning back to watch the pan. He says he tries not to cook when he's feeling bad, to work his way out of it or, if all else fails, close up shop to avoid sharing negative energy. It's not the best business strategy, he admits, but cooking is personal.
"Even though you're paying me, if I'm feeding you, it's personal," says Mitchell. "It's about your body, your health, your vibration, so it's personal."