by: Rosa Bianca

Carribay Soul
35 N. Front Street • (910) 343-0070
3 stars (out of 5)

“Every buffet,” Fay observed as she sat down with a fully loaded plate, “is improved by the addition of fried chicken and biscuits.” It’s hard to argue with that kind of statement, so I didn’t even try. Besides, I was busy wrestling with my own dinner—a curried chicken over red beans and rice—and I was losing.

We had come to eat lunch at Carribay Soul, newly opened on the corner of Front and Princess streets, across from “where Su-Ann Shoes used to be,” as Fay would say. It is actually where quite a lot of things used to be. The picturesque building with its warm, old brick walls and view of the river from the back patio has been a succession of different restaurants over the last 10 years: several Italian, at least one Southern and, way back in the day, a jazzy restaurant and bar called Paleo Sun. Each place brought something new to the corner, and now Carribay Soul has arrived to add its particular brand of island charm.

The restaurant is the creation of partners Chris Hobbs and Chris Schmidt, who are committed to serving island cuisine—especially Jamaican—in the most authentic manner possible. This apparently means spices imported directly from Jamaica and dishes prepared in strict accordance with the recipes inherited from one partner’s Jamaican grandmother. And, really, it’s hard to argue with that. It doesn’t get more authentic than someone’s grandmother’s special recipes.

Still, I’d be willing to bet that the yellowfin tuna, mango and avocado stack that Fay and I ordered to share from the appetizer menu didn’t come from any little old lady in a hut by the beach. It was an exquisite creation, a thick medallion of sushi-grade tuna, topped with a layer of mango and then a layer of chilled avocado, nestled in a bed of greens with lemongrass dressing and garnished with strips of dried plantains. As tuna tartar goes, it was pretty spectacular.

Because we were there for lunch, there was a buffet. But when I type “buffet,” readers must immediately dismiss from their minds any visions of long tables filled with cooling, gummy hunks of meat or desiccated vegetables. This buffet was an understated, elegant affair, set up in a temporary home along one end of the bar (where it wouldn’t be in the way of anyone who wanted a drink while they watched golf on the television overhead). About four silver warming trays had been set up over small candles. Each tray was covered but had a glass door that could be lifted to reach the food kept safe inside. They were discrete, pretty, and I want one for my kitchen counter. They didn’t look like they would hold all that much food, but given the tottering piles gracing the plates of the other patrons, and Fay’s own impressive helpings, the trays obviously held a lot more food than diners would think.

Fay helped herself to a jerked pork chop and a large helping of steamed cabbage, red beans and rice, a frittata-like dish of eggs with zucchini, cheese and olives (Fay didn’t know about the olives, which she hates, which is why I got to eat all of it), and, of course, the aforementioned fried chicken and biscuits. Fay is correct, by the way: The presence of fried chicken and biscuits would improve even a salad bar in a vegetarian restaurant.

I did not have the buffet, partly because buffets are wasted on me—I am never, ever able to eat enough to go back for seconds. But also because frankly the Carribay menu was so enticing and interesting that I wasn’t about to ignore it. Bratas Pies and West Indian Macaws, Calypso Shrimp and Grits and Key West crème brule—really, everything sounded delicious. Even the Chicken and Waffle, which I think from the description is basically buttermilk fried chicken over a waffle with maple syrup. I almost ordered it just to see Fay’s wide-eyed look when it was set down on the table. But common sense prevailed, and after much dithering I finally settled on a Sweet Curry Chicken Plate of marinated chicken over red beans and rice with steamed cabbage and fried plantains.

All the entrées at Carribay Soul can be ordered in either large or small sizes—a stroke of genius in these harsh economic times, and much appreciated by me, since if I can’t manage seconds at a buffet, imagine what a struggle it is to simply clean my plate.

As it turned out, it was a bit more of a struggle than I was intending because having ordered the “small” chicken curry plate, the “bone-in whole pieces of marinated chicken” that came on the plate were the small drummettes and flats of several full chicken wings. Now, as everyone knows, chicken wings are finger food. By definition. But these were smothered in a rich and extremely thick, messy curry, and there was absolutely no way I was picking them up with my hands.

So Fay finished off her pork chop and her fried chicken and her rice and went back for seconds, while I spent a good 10 minutes wrestling with my food, trying to pry the meat away from the small bones without leaving too much behind. I was only moderately successful (perhaps if I had ordered the larger plate I would have received a large piece of chicken?). By the time Fay came back with her second helping, my curried chicken over red beans and rice had become a well-mixed pile of curried chicken in red beans and rice.

I’ll say this though: It was delicious. So delicious I was wanting the recipe. (Curry recipes are as unique as every cook in the kitchen.) The curry wasn’t hot, but it was aromatic, and the chicken was wonderfully tender. The red beans and rice were seasoned with something (Fay thought maybe a little coconut, but I’m not so sure), and the steamed cabbage had a mild, delicate flavor to it. And how often can I use the word “delicate” in relation to cabbage?

Secret grandmother recipes or no, Carribay Soul has a good thing going. It is perhaps slightly too upscale to be called truly authentic “island cuisine,” but the food is original and beautifully prepared. Everything tasted very fresh, and I am willing to bet that not a single thing we were served had ever seen the inside of a freezer.

I have seen quite a few restaurants come and go on the corner of Front and Princess. I’ll be rooting for this one to stay a while, though. It has a lot of soul.