What's for dinner? No, really!

Oxy Moron, Contributor

Sheryl and Greg had been dating for a while, eating out at fine restaurants, and all. They were very fond of each other, but work and other commitments prevented them from spending more time together.

In one of their phone conversations, Greg boasted that he was a good cook, taught by his late father. Sheryl unashamedly said she could not even boil water, as her mom would not let her near the stove. She was her mommy's darling and had to stick to her books.

"So invite me to dinner, nuh?" she asked, tongue-in-cheek.

"I was about to, but yuh beat me to it," an excited Greg returned.

So, it was set. Last week Sunday, at six.

Sheryl arrived one hour before, did everything she could, except finding out what Greg was doing in the kitchen, from which a very pleasant aroma floated into the living room. Greg wanted to surprise her, so he didn't say a word, all the time they were gallivanting on the settee.

A few minutes to six, he left her to set the table. He was ecstatic. How pleased Sheryl would be with his gastronomic sensibilities, he thought. When he was ready, he chirped, "Dinner is served!"

Sheryl skipped into the dinning room.

"Mmm," she purred, "smells nice."

As she pulled a chair, she asked in a matter-of-fact tone, "What is it?"

"Cassava and lionfish at your service, dear!' Greg proudly exclaimed.

"Cassava and lionfish!?" Sheryl asked incredulously, as she let go of the chair.

"Yes, they are ..."

"Poisonous!"

"Not if you know how to prepare them, and I know ..."

"Well, I am not taking any chances!"

"I can assure you, nothing is going to happen to you and, moreover, the minister said we should grow what we eat and, eat what we grow."

"Oh, yes, I saw him on TV all over the place eating lionfish and giving it his nods of approval. Well, guess what? Why don't you invite the minister over to eat your cassava and lionfish? And call him quick before they get cold and insipid."

With that, Sheryl stormed out of Greg's house. He watched her through the window as she sped away. He slowly returned to the table, stared for a while at his culinary handiwork, and sighed. "Woman hard fi please, eh?" he mumbled to himself. Then he grabbed his knife and fork.

Now, Salt Fish was in the cupboard listening to the exchange between Sheryl and Greg, and it laughed until all the salt nearly came out of it. "Where is Ackee in all of this?" it asked, mockingly. And it laughed some more, so much, that all the scales on its side stood up, and joined him.

For centuries, from when the European slave masters used to call it 'Halifax mutton', Salt Fish has been a favourite of the Jamaican palate, and now this flamboyant predator called lionfish is being touted to take centre table. Salt Fish stopped to catch its breath and, before it let go another whoop, it whispered, "Mine yuh poison yuhself yah, maasa."

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