By Rosemary Parkinson, Freelance Writer
Above, Alex's curry goat served with white rice and boiled banana and From left to right: Theodore Arthur, Prince Miller, and Alex. - Photos By Rosemary Parkinson
Alex's, on Spur Tree Hill
No phone. Opening hours: Based on the availability of goat -- between 10:00 a.m. and 3:00 p.m. Prices begin at J$30
Menu: Box and plate curry goat. Bowl, dish and cup Mannish Water soup. Take away or eat right there.
Alex kills one goat a day and when it's gone, the unfortunate have to wait until the next day for their curry
A GENTLEMAN, who shall remain nameless and with whom I had had curry goat discussions, met again in Negril some four months ago. He adamantly stuck to his guns regarding the best curry goat spot in Jamaica -- Alex's. Maybe so, said I, but every time I pass this place since your first disclosure, it is closed. "What time do you pass?" he asked. Usually around 2:00, maybe 3:00 p.m., said I quite innocently.
He laughed heartily: "Alex curry goat dun' by den, mi tell yu dat. An' when Alex goat finish, pot tun down and Alex gone 'ome".
It has taken me four months of organisation since that conversation to pass Alex's at the exact time -- meaning nothing else but when the doors are open. I found him at last, and with goat to spare. The time was 11:30 a.m. on Saturday, August 17.
IF THE DOORS ARE OPEN,
ALEX HAS GOAT
Born in the area, Alex married Monica from Spice Grove, Manchester, and set up home andbusiness just as you come down Spur Tree Hill going toward Gutters, Pepper, Goshen and Santa Cruz in St. Elizabeth. You have to keep your eyes alert all the way down Spur Tree Hill or you just might pass Alex's small sign on the left hand side. Once you turn in and the doors are open, the unmistakable aroma of delicious curry goat permeates the air, announcing in no uncertain terms that Alex has goat.
One goat a day is killed. One goat a day is curried -- the 'other parts' too rude to mention are used for mannish water. So the story is definitely this: Get there too late and the doors will be fastened down, shut tight against the rest of the world and Alex and his wife will be calmly seeing to their cows and pigs in their own yard to the back. And what time is too late or too early? Surely you must know the answer by now: When the doors are closed. Simple. Do not even bother calling out in case there might be some left over. I questioned Alex as to this possibility, he smiled broadly and shook his head from side to side with determination. Alex says one goat is enough. When that is done, fresh goat will be served the next day and that is that. No stale goat here. No open door. No goat. No more explanation.
Still, although his face read do not dare ask any more questions, I did. How about a telephone number to call ahead? "No telephone, we do not like dat". I had gone over the question limit. I asked nothing more about availability or anything else, believe you me.
For 32 years Monica Alexander has been cooking curry goat at this location. It's just a small place, clean and unassuming with a counter behind which Alex reigns supreme. He joined his wife, having left the bauxite company in the area where he had worked for about 16 years. Judith, their daughter, and Audrey Davis, his niece, lend a hand on a daily basis with the latter serving the faithful customers who pour in one by one until every piece of goat is served and those doors and windows follow their tradition as commanded by the man of business.
Well, Alex had his curry goat properly tested, let me tell you. I was with two curry goat experts -- one of dem the Grand Dame of Jamaican Cuisine and the other a returning national who can smell a 'raw' curry goat a mile away. I have seen her determine the taste of food with merely a whiff and a turned-up nose. No uncertain terms here. All three of us were ready for Alex.
While we were enjoying a cool drink, Arthur Miller and his father Theodore the 80-year-old leader of Down's Watson Hill P.O. LITITZ Mento Band (I later found out and I hope I got all that straight) walked right in as if they owned the place. After much shaking of hands and greetings, I was introduced to these two handsome men. "Just call me Prince", said Arthur. Audrey placed mannish water in front of them and I was secretly told that their youth was due to Alex's soup. Okay, then. Whatever. All I can say is that I saw, I tasted and I decided instantly that it was definitely not to be conquered by me. Wow. Now that soup can turn the hair on your head (although as I understand it, that is not what it turns for Jamaican men). Dear, oh dear. Heavy business that.
All I say for Alex's mannish water is that every specimen of the male gender sitting in that place had a bowl of it in front of them, smiling with each spoonful that disappeared into their mouths. What these creatures will do for prowess!
The curry goat was served with fluffy white rice and boiled green bananas and it was simply heavenly. We ordered an extra plateful, no rice this time, just goat. The goat was tender, melted off the bone and had no trace of the slight 'rawness' associated with that meat. The curry was light and tasty with just enough spice and pepper, leaving it open for pure taste. My request for extra heat was met with a divine 'Manchester' bonnet -- my name for this aromatic and tasty pepper that is definitely different from any I have enjoyed in Jamaica. Superb.
Alex said the curry recipe was a family secret. Audrey claims that is not true. "Mi tell any body who asks," she said loudly. The argument was still raging as we bade our goodbyes (without said recipe), vowing to return to the best little curry goat house on Spur Tree Hill and perhaps Jamaica.
Be good and be blessed.
Rosemary Parkinson, author Culinaria: The Caribbean, is speechless.
