Chef Irie

Growing up, we were neither rich nor poor, but I’m not quite sure if we were middle class either. I grew up in St. Catherine on Caymanas Estates, a sugar plantation in Jamaica. My dad worked as a bookkeeper for the company, so we lived in company housing. It was hard work and he was dedicated to it, often to the chagrin of my mother. She was a principled, God-fearing woman who valued family time, especially Sunday dinner. She’d raise a stink if they came calling for my dad when dinner was on the table. Food was important to both my parents. My dad was a very good cook, but Mama was the bee’s knees.