A Moveable Feast

One of the things I appreciate most about restaurants that serve ethnic fare is that they can, in a sense, emulate international travel, if only for a meal. 

Last weekend, I had the opportunity to experience this psuedo-travel at Negril Village, a Jamaican restaurant located in New York City's Greenwich Village. I'd been craving Jamaican cuisine since returning from my trip to the island less than two years ago, but it's not a particularly easy type of food to find. The line of people waiting to be seated served as a good indication that Negril Village would be a good place to finally sate my appetite.

Everything about my dining experience was incredible. The first thing I noticed was the restaurant's warm ambience, one that with its dim lighting and golden hues, paralleled the warmth of Jamaica's climate. The only thing I missed was the actual sunshine, although the restaurant did provide a reprieve from the unseasonably cold temperature outside. 

The style of the restaurant was admittedly more modern than anything I ever experienced in Jamaica. The table at which my friend and I sat at was small, dwarfed by chairs that reminded me of Alice in Wonderland. Reggae music played in the background, and I have since had the urge to spend my time listening to irie.fm, rather than my usual Pandora stations. Take a look:

I perused the menu at a leisurely pace; deciding what meal to order in a timely fashion has never been a strong suit of mine. After much deliberation, I ordered the Jerk Rubbed Chicken.

To call this meal fantastic does not do it justice. My plate consisted of a sizable portion of jerk chicken, as well as a healthy serving of rice and beans, and some steamed vegetables. And every last bite was incredible. I'd once eaten a similar meal on the shores of the very beach from which the restaurant gets its name, and while nothing compares to the experience of eating alongside the ocean, this came somewhat close.

I've since been encouraging people to venture out to this restaurant, particularly if like me, they enjoy ethnic food. Beyond the calming ambience, the restaurant boasted one of the friendlier wait staffs I've encountered in some time. Our waiter was affable, answered all of our questions with a smile on his face, and engaged in conversation about my favorite side dish, festival.

Days later, I am still thinking back to this meal. Perhaps it's because I adore food so much. But more likely, it's because for a night, this restaurant took me back to the sunshine, relaxation, and friendliness that I associate with Jamaica. I cannot wait to go back.

Talk of the Weather Will Do

Perhaps I spoke too soon in relaying my enjoyment of autumn. After all, we are currently experiencing some seasonably low temperatures - there are days where it's a lot more akin to winter outside than it is to early fall. I'm just not yet ready to layer my clothes this much. To make matters worse, not only are we dealing with temperatures in the forties, but it's raining. A lot. 

I don't always mind the rain, particularly on weekends when I can afford to curl up on the couch or in bed. Sure, I could do without the humidity, particularly on days like yesterday, when I'm having my license picture retaken. However, my primary gripe with rain (and all forms of precipitation, I suppose) is the way in which it impedes travel.

I'm going to New York City tomorrow and staying through Sunday, and the forecast is calling for rain. I've experienced New York in the rain more times than I care to count, from that annoying mist to downpours. Sometimes, it's actually a little fun. 

But more often than not, it's exhausting, particularly when all you'd like to do is enjoy a nice evening in the city. Cold weather rain is always abysmal - all those layers do very little for you when they're all wet. And when it's cold everywhere, where do you go to warm up and dry? You may want to walk carefully, so as to avoid all the puddles, but that usually proves both difficult and useless in Manhattan. And if it's windy out to boot, keeping one's umbrella from looking like this could be considered a sporting event.

But oddly enough, all these unfavorable weather conditions can still lead to an enjoyable experience, particularly when you mentally prepare to be cold and wet with frizzy hair.

And sometimes, the weather forecast is wrong. I'm keeping my fingers crossed.

(Don't You Be a) Passerby

I have an inexplicable affinity for rest areas. Some are undoubtedly preferable to others - I've grown quite fond of those on the New Jersey Turnpike, likely a result of having frequented them so often over the years. I find a strange comfort in them, and I really enjoy the fact that they're named after an interesting variety of people, from Walt Whitman, to Vince Lombardi, to Grover Cleveland. Alternatively, I find some stops in Connecticut to be a little strange. I once waited out a downpour in the parking lot of one of these, and even when surrounded by other cars, I still found myself discomforted by the desolation of the rest area.

But of the ones I've seen so far, none hold a candle to those found off the Ohio Turnpike. These places are spacious, immaculate (particularly for a rest area), and filled with restaurants whose food I actually want to eat, from Einstein Brothers Bagels, to Panera. They are also easily the most redeemable thing about Ohio (with the exception of the Cleveland Clinic, I think). See for yourselves:

Pretty nice, right? Places like this really make unwanted road trips worth it.

As an added bonus, as of this month, the Ohio Turnpike is finally joining most of the east coast in offering E-Z Pass. What's not to like?