At the Sugarloaf Country Club in Duluth, Georgia, chef Omar Powell runs the kitchen the same way that countless other chefs run country club kitchens. He makes what his customers want. Hamburgers. Cobb salads. Iced tea.
Only, a few of his customers know a secret. And that secret is that Powell is one of the best Jamaican cooks around, a chef who cut his teeth at the Culinary Institute of America and at Daniel on New York’s Upper East Side, but whose truest talent is interpreting the food of his youth on Montego Bay.
“I had a colorful childhood there,” he tells me from the kitchen of his Duluth home, where he lives with his wife, Nathalie, and his daughters, Jordan and Hailey. “We planned our summers based on what fruits were available. In June they have naseberries; in August, it’s mango season.”
Powell cooks authentic Jamaican food with both a deep sense of authority (“Our flavor profile includes thyme, allspice, green onions, and cloves”) and a profound sense of enjoyment (“You have to like the subcutaneous gristle to really like oxtails”).
His oxtails—which he seasons overnight with paprika, garlic powder, onion powder, and sugar—are a perfect example of how he filters his Jamaican food knowledge through the prism of the French culinary techniques he picked up at the CIA and Daniel; he uses them in a cassoulet.
“It’s almost like an oxtail chili,” he says as he stirs together the shredded oxtail meat, cannellini beans, beets, and carrots. “The French just put it in their language and charge a lot more for it.”
The beet and the carrot are there for color—“We eat with our eyes first,” he says—but their flavor contributes a great deal too. “Booyah!” he exclaims as he takes his first bite.
If Powell takes great pleasure in the Jamaican food that he cooks at home, he also cooks it with a measure of pride. “Rum cake is a staple in Jamaica,” he says as he begins unwrapping a rum cake that’s been curing for a few days wrapped in wax paper and plastic, seasoned every so often with more rum. “It’s only had a few times of the year—Christmas and at weddings. Those are the only times you can spare the money.”
This particular recipe comes from Nathalie’s mother (“She would be so proud to have you share the recipe,” Nathalie told me) and is an extravaganza of spices (cinnamon and nutmeg), molasses, and, of course, white rum. “The biggest secret of the cake is the rum,” says Powell. “Use J. Wray and Nephew, if you can find it.”
It’s a shame that Powell’s daily customers don’t get to experience the accomplished Jamaican food that he makes at home (the smart ones know to ask for his specialties off the menu). The good news is that Powell is in the process of opening a restaurant in Atlanta where he’ll cook Jamaican food with a French flair.
Trading in hamburgers for oxtails, Powell’s ready to cook the food that he loves.
“It’s never too early for the relationship to start between the meat and the vegetables.”
Serves 4
When these oxtails come out of the oven, intensely brown and fragrant, I have to stop myself from tearing them apart and consuming them right then and there. Patience, it turns out, is a virtue when it comes to this dish; both in applying the dry rub a day before you cook the oxtails and then letting them refrigerate an extra day after you cook them to develop the flavors. If you do all that, on the third day, you’ll be rewarded with a deeply satisfying meaty stew that’s brightened with carrot and beet and hits of garlic, parsley, and thyme. Truth be told, you can make this all in one day (I’ve done it) and it will still be good, though just not as good. See how well you fare when you give it a go.
FOR THE OXTAILS
1 teaspoon paprika
1 tablespoon kosher salt
1 teaspoon freshly ground black pepper
1 teaspoon garlic powder
1 teaspoon onion powder
1 teaspoon sugar
6 large oxtails, on the bone
3 tablespoons olive oil
3 celery stalks, chopped
2 carrots, peeled and chopped
1 tablespoon tomato paste
FOR THE CASSOULET
1 golden or red beet, peeled and cut into ½-inch cubes
1 fat carrot, peeled and cut into ½-inch cubes
Kosher salt
3 hot Italian sausages, removed from the casings
Olive oil
2 cloves garlic, chopped
½ onion, chopped
1 celery stalk, chopped
1 tomato, chopped
½ cup canned cannellini beans, strained
1 tablespoon chopped fresh thyme
Freshly ground black pepper
¼ cup chopped parsley
Begin 2 days ahead by making a dry rub for the oxtails. In a small bowl, mix together the paprika, salt, pepper, garlic powder, onion powder, and sugar and rub all over the oxtails. Place the oxtails in a lidded container and refrigerate overnight (you can even do it for 2 nights).
The day before you want to serve the cassoulet, preheat the oven to 350°F. Bring the oxtails to room temperature. Cook them by heating the olive oil over medium-high heat in a Dutch oven or a lidded pan large enough to hold everything. When the oil is hot, add the oxtails and brown them thoroughly on each side* without moving them around too much, to let them develop color. As the oxtails brown, bring 6 cups water to a boil in a separate pot.
When the oxtails are almost brown all over, add the celery and carrots to the pan. Stir and then add the tomato paste to an uncrowded spot in the pan, stirring it slightly. Lower the heat and allow the tomato paste to toast a bit, gently, along with the carrots and celery.
Add enough of the boiling water to the pan to cover the oxtails by three quarters. Cover the pan and place in the oven for 2½ to 3 hours*, until the oxtails fall apart when pulled with a fork. When the oxtails are done, allow them to come to room temperature and then refrigerate them in their liquid to allow the flavor to develop overnight.
When you’re ready to assemble the cassoulet, remove the oxtail pan from the refrigerator and warm it up a bit on the stove over low heat to reliquify the braising liquid. Meanwhile, bring a small pan of water to a boil. Drop in the beets and the carrots, along with a pinch of salt, and lower to a simmer. Cook just until the beets and carrots are cooked through but still somewhat toothsome, about 10 minutes; strain and set aside.
Place the oxtails on a large plate* and remove all of the meat with your fingers, discarding the bones. Strain the braising liquid with a chinois or a strainer and set aside.
To make the cassoulet, add the sausage to a large pot or pan with a splash of olive oil. Raise the heat to medium high and cook, breaking it up with a spoon, until the sausage begins to brown. Add the garlic, onions, and celery and allow those to cook for a minute or two. Add the tomato, beans, all of the oxtail meat, the strained braising liquid, the thyme, and a few grinds of pepper. Stir, bring to a simmer, and taste to adjust for salt. Remove from the heat and add the strained beet and carrot and the chopped parsley. Serve hot.
Serves 4
“We have this soup on Saturdays in Jamaica,” Powell told me as he made it in his kitchen. “Pumpkin soup is big there. Sometimes, on weekends, you go from friend’s house to friend’s house to see who has the best pumpkin soup.” What I love so much about this one is the way the raw chicken that goes in creates its own stock, enriching everything around it and leaving you with tender pieces of chicken that turn this simple soup into a satisfying dinner. The “spinners” are dumplings that get their name because of the way you shoot them spinning through the air into the soup.
FOR THE THYME OIL
¼ cup olive oil
1 bunch of thyme
FOR THE SOUP
10 cups water
1 kabocha, butternut, or acorn squash, peeled*, seeded, and cut into 1-inch chunks
A whole chicken* (3 to 4 pounds), cut into parts, minus the breast
Kosher salt
2-inch knob of ginger, peeled and finely minced or grated
2 cloves garlic, minced
½ jalapeño or habanero pepper*, seeded and chopped
1 white yam* from Jamaica, peeled and cut into quarters
3 red potatoes, cut into quarters
½ white onion, chopped
1 celery stalk, chopped
1 carrot, peeled and chopped
A few sprigs of thyme, for garnish
FOR THE SPINNERS
1 cup all-purpose flour
1 tablespoon kosher salt
Enough water to form a dough
Start by making the thyme oil. Place the oil and thyme in a small pan and raise the heat to medium. When the thyme starts popping, remove the pan from the heat and allow the thyme to steep in the oil while you make the soup.
In a large pot or Dutch oven, bring the water to a boil on high heat. Add the squash and the chicken* and a good pinch of salt, bring back to a boil, lower to a simmer, and cook for about 30 minutes, until the squash is tender; a knife should go through it easily when pierced. Skim off any scum that floats to the top.
When the pieces of squash are tender, use a large spoon to fish them out and place them in a blender. Blend until they’re creamy and smooth and then return them to the soup, stirring to combine.
Add the rest of the ingredients, except for the thyme, to the soup, along with some more salt, and continue to simmer.
To make the spinners, place the flour and salt in a bowl and take the bowl to the sink. Turn the faucet on to a slow, steady stream of lukewarm water and add it to the flour, stirring with your fingers. As soon as you have something that looks like a dough, knead the dough to develop the gluten. Grab a golf-ball-size knob of dough and roll it in your hands as if you’re making a snake out of Play-Doh. On the final motion of rubbing your hands together to make the snake, launch the skinny snake (or “spinner”) into the soup. Repeat until you’ve used up all the dough.
Continue to cook the soup until the yam and potatoes are cooked through and the spinners are no longer doughy, about 15 minutes. Taste the soup for salt and ladle it into bowls. Drizzle the thyme oil on top and garnish with a few more sprigs of thyme.
Makes one 9-inch cake
If gingerbread had a tipsy Jamaican cousin, this would be it. The flavors here are capital-B big (when was the last time you baked a cake with 1½ tablespoons of vanilla extract in it?), but the end result has an intense, spicy flavor and can easily handle all the rum that is added. Make sure to grease the pan well because the cake will rise a lot, almost like a muffin; it helps to use an offset spatula to detach it. Serve with a dollop of whipped cream or, better yet, a shot of rum.
FOR THE DRIED FRUIT
¼ cup raisins
½ cup pitted prunes
1 cup white rum (preferably J. Wray and Nephew brand), plus ¼ cup more for sprinkling on the finished cake
FOR THE CAKE
2¾ cups all-purpose flour, plus more for dusting the pan
1½ tablespoons baking powder
1½ teaspoons salt
1 tablespoon ground cinnamon
½ tablespoon freshly grated nutmeg
½ pound (2 sticks) unsalted butter, at room temperature
2½ cups dark brown sugar
4 large eggs, at room temperature
1½ tablespoons vanilla extract
¼ cup molasses
Powdered sugar (optional)
Place the raisins and prunes in a large heat-proof bowl and, in a small separate pot, bring the white rum to a boil over medium-high heat; be careful that it doesn’t flambé. Pour the boiling rum over the fruit and cover with plastic wrap. Set aside.
When the fruit has absorbed most of the liquid* and has cooled almost to room temperature, puree it in a blender until it’s a fruity, rummy mash.
Preheat the oven to 350°F. Fill a baking pan halfway with water and place it on the oven’s bottom shelf to create steam. Spray a 9-inch round cake pan with cooking spray, line it with parchment paper, and spray once again. Dust it with flour, tapping out any excess.
In a bowl, sift together the flour, baking powder, salt, cinnamon, and nutmeg. Set aside.
In a stand mixer fitted with the paddle attachment, cream the butter with the brown sugar until fluffy and light, about 3 minutes. Lower the speed and add the eggs, one at a time, until they’re fully incorporated.
Add the vanilla, molasses, and blended fruit to the mixer and mix just until they’re combined.
With the mixer on low, slowly add the dry ingredients to the wet ingredients, a little at a time. Finish by incorporating the final bit of flour mixture into the batter with a rubber spatula.
Pour the batter into the prepared cake pan and bake until the top is dark and firm, 45 minutes to 1 hour, or until a cake tester comes out clean.
Remove the cake pan to a cooling rack, wait 5 minutes, and then flip the cake down onto another cooling rack, remove the pan and the paper, and sprinkle with the reserved ¼ cup rum. Allow to cool completely. To serve, flip right side up onto a cake stand and, for a visual pop, sift on some powdered sugar. Wrapped in wax paper and then plastic wrap, this cake will keep, at room temperature, for up to 3 weeks. (You have to sprinkle it with rum every so often to keep it punchy.)
