If you fancy a richness of culture and cuisine, you’ll need to head to its lesser-explored east, argues food writer Riaz Phillips
‘We are all Jamaican here,” an émigré to Britain from Barbados declares in Donald Hinds’s short story Small Islan’ Complex. Caribbean cuisine has slowly entered the mainstream in London, treading in the shadow of the region’s music. But as that émigré knew, the idea of what constitutes Caribbean culture, at least in the UK, is dominated by Jamaica, the country that sent the most people to Britain — think Bob Marley, rastafari dreadlocks and reggae.
In fact, Britain has a long and treacherous history in many other Caribbean nations from which people — including my own family — travelled across the Atlantic in the Windrush era and the years since.
For instance, take Guyana, which is on the South American continent, but culturally speaking is seen as a Caribbean country. Yet it lies some 1,500 miles southeast of Jamaica — the same distance as that between the UK and Turkey.
What I call “the hidden Caribbean” lies in Guyana, its eastern neighbour Suriname and nearby Trinidad and Tobago — countries that are among the tapestry of nations from which my family hail. In fact, the hidden Caribbean is not necessarily a place to me, but a concentration of underrepresented cultures that exist outside the limelight of mainstream Caribbean culture. This is signposted by triangular jhandi flags and places of worship including Hindu and Buddhist temples, mosques and synagogues, with an audio backing less focused on reggae and more on calypso, soca and Indian-influenced chutney music. This is all Caribbean culture, and it is undoubtedly British history too — one that we aren’t taught in school.
On Jamaica, Barbados and other western islands, most people are descendants of formerly enslaved west Africans, so most are black. In the eastern Caribbean countries, however, you find a much more nuanced population, with those of Asian heritage — predominantly Indian, but also Chinese and Indonesian — making up a larger percentage of the populace. But it’s all linked. With the abolition of the transatlantic slave trade, plantation owners sought to import indentured labourers from other countries in the British Empire. This experiment didn’t last long, but the demographic shift it initiated lingers almost a century later.
Today there’s nowhere you can see this more clearly than in the food and social culture. Food is everything in the Caribbean. In my family, unhappy murmurs turn into full-on outrage if food is lacking at any event, from christenings to funerals. In the UK, “Caribbean food” has been amalgamated into a sort of singular menu; the growing fame of jerk chicken would have you believe that it’s a commonplace meal across the entire region, but this is not the case — its origins lie in Jamaica, and it’s best tasted fresh off the pimento-wood pits in Boston Bay in Portland, in the east of the island. Likewise, going by British-Caribbean shop menus you might think that roti — the soft, silky Indian-style flatbread that is a daily staple in the east of the Caribbean — is readily available in Jamaica. But as I found on one failed expedition, this is anything but true. (In the eastern Caribbean they’re all very good — so ask the locals for their tips. In London, have the curry-stuffed version from Roti Stop in Stoke Newington.)
In the east Caribbean foods are more often referred to by their Indian names — aubergine is baigan; green beans are bodhi; cumin is jeera. You’ll hear this in any market aisle, high street or neighbourhood in Guyana or Trinidad and Tobago. You’ll also see Indo-Caribbeans and Afro-Caribbeans living side by side amid myriad other ethnic groups — Iberian Europeans, Lebanese and, of course, descendants of the indigenous Amerindian tribes who occupied these islands.
Tourism is a very different story in this largely unknown corner of the Caribbean too. Tobago is a long-time favourite holiday spot with a small number of Brits, but otherwise the eastern reaches of the Caribbean draw only a fraction of the visitor numbers of Jamaica, Barbados and the Bahamas. This means that there are hardly any cruise ships, all-inclusive resorts or even hotels; it’s more common to see traditionally stilted guesthouses and smaller homestays. Whereas Jamaica, for example, caters to tourists in relatively slick fashion, each country in the eastern Caribbean has only about a dozen attractions, where visitors are mostly left to their own devices to seek and explore.
No stay in Trinidad is complete without a trip up through the leafy, shaded canopies of the Northern Range and down the other side to Maracas Bay. Here golden-sand beaches are open to all (a subject that’s a point of contention on islands such as Jamaica and Barbados) and titan palm trees provide shade to the multiple huts selling hot and tangy bake-and-shark sandwiches. In Guyana the glorious Kaieteur Falls are worthy of being counted among the wonders of the world, and an eight-man plane trip over the rainforest from Georgetown, the capital, is a real eye-opener.
The fact that this corner of the Caribbean is low on the tourism pecking order also means that the food landscape predominantly caters to locals. To the chagrin of some travellers I met on my most recent trip this includes curries laden with bone, cartilage, offal and foot, rather than the pacified, boneless versions we are used to in the west. On top of that, absolutely no food here is shy on the chilli pepper.
The real joys of eating in the eastern Caribbean come in the small countryside neighbourhoods — places such as Moruga at the southern tip of Trinidad, Berbice on the eastern edge of Guyana and the northern coast of Suriname, on the way into Paramaribo, its capital. Here food outlets exist by word of mouth — not on Google Maps, but where takeaways are available from side windows, garages, front lawns and roadsides. You might find homely chicken stews, steamed vegetables and meat curries served with rice or roti. In Jamaica you can rely on public transport to access these delights, but in Trinidad and Guyana you may need a car and a guide; fortunately neither is expensive nor hard to come by.
To me this hidden Caribbean is reminiscent of what tourism used to be — free-roaming and fuelled by a few hints and tips, with the locals wondering what you are doing there, rather than being spoonfed itineraries, experiencing only an eco-system created to cater specifically to travellers. Much of Trinidad, Guyana and Suriname is off the beaten track and perfect for the adventurous. It’s the Caribbean the way I like it.
East Winds: Recipes, History & Tales from the Hidden Caribbean by Riaz Phillips (DK; £25) is published on October 5. To order a copy go to timesbookshop.co.uk. Free UK standard P&P on orders over £25. Special discount available for Times+ members
