The cabbage was not your typical overcooked, butter-drenched mess. This was island cabbage -light, thinly sliced, gently sautéed with

intention. You could almost hear Bob Marley playing softly in the background when you took a bite.

Now. The oxtails.

These oxtails are not just food-they are a declaration of culinary authority. Fall-off-the- bone tender, soaked in a slow-simmered brown stew sauce so rich and full of depth it deserves its own biography. I would marry this man for his oxtails and willingly sign a prenup that guarantees he never stops cooking. It's that serious.

The seasoning, the texture, the braising technique-it all screams authenticity. These oxtails are not Americanized, oversalted, or swimming in grease. They are precise, confident, seductive. If you don't feel something when you eat these oxtails, you might be spiritually unwell.

The mac and cheese was creamy, cheesy, and perfectly baked. The texture? On point.

Personally, I would've amped up the seasoning just a notch-maybe a hint of scotch bonnet or a touch more Caribbean herbs-but the base was solid and comforting.