He's not talking about airline logistics. He's talking about spice. In other words, am I going to go the mild American-tourist route, or take the indigenous path to hot times?

Frankly, I'd like to spend the day climbing the falls at Ocho Rios, or sampling the local underground agriculture—preferably both—but I have no idea what gustatory metaphor that would imply. Luckily, I'm not dining alone, so my friend and I order one of each and split 'em.

Now, I'm no Caribbean native (far from it) but I do come to the table with a basic understanding of what jerk chicken is supposed to taste like. My first time trying the stuff, I was on a mission trip, building a church in the mountainous Jamaican countryside. One day, a local villager brought us a big batch of her homemade jerk chicken and, after multiple afternoons of bagged lunches, it was about the best thing I'd ever tasted.

The kind at Jamaican Joe's new Adams Morgan location (priced at $7.50) is pretty irie, too, but a lot saucier than the authentic dry-rubbed stuff I remember. The pulled chicken is smothered to almost McRib-like proportions in the spiced sauce, interspersed with slivers of plantains, topped with lettuce and tomato and a tad of mayo. Maybe the tastiest part of the whole thing, though, is the coco bread it's served on, which kind of reminds me of a pillow-soft dinner roll.

As for the fly-over versus Kingston-landing equation, the difference is not immediately apparent, though my lips begin to detect a slight temperature uptick as I'm half-way through the capital city version. Our server, intuitively spotting our spice confusion, brings over an extra bowl of Scotch bonnet peppers to amp up the tropical degrees. That helps! Whew!

Gotta say I am pleasantly surprised at how much I like this sandwich—particularly given the rather unappetizing signage out front, "Wanna Get Jerked?" Not to mention the t-shirt that the chef is wearing: "Jerk Off Fridays."

For once, I am really happy it is Wednesday.

Photo by Chris Shott

The Spot: RAS Restaurant & Lounge, 4809 Georgia Avenue NW, (202) 291-2096

The Cuisine: Ethiopian, Caribbean, Jamaican

The Go-To Dishes: Bake and shark, gouda grits

The Scoop: About a month ago, I had stumbled across an article on Thrillist about a new place in Petworth called RAS. It's a Rastafarian/Ethiopian themed restaurant combining flavors from Africa and the Caribbean.

It recently came to my attention that, as part of RAS's menu, the joint serves a dish called bake and shark, which is deep-fried shark stuffed into fried bread and topped with lettuce, tomato, and mango chutney. Bake and shark is a Trinidadian dish, served from little huts on the island's beaches. So when I found out that I don't need to fly to the Caribbean to try it, I grabbed my coat and raced to RAS before Andrew Zimmern could beat me to it.

The bake and shark aside, RAS is actually a pretty cool joint itself. The place is still in the process of acquiring a liquor license, which will certainly help business at the built-in bar, not to mention the space for open mike and live reggae music. RAS was pretty empty when I walked in on a weekday evening, but my friendly waitress Mary informed me that the crowds differ by the day.

The only real problem was that I wanted to order more than just the bake and shark after checking out the menu. But Mary put my worries to rest and offered to make a combination plate of Jamaican jerk chicken along with Ethiopian lamb tibs on injera. I also asked for a side of gouda grits and a Jamaican ginger beer (though a Red Stripe would have been a way better option, alas).

Without any reservations, I can say that the bake and shark was everything I wanted and more. The deep-fried shark meat was full of flavor and the mango chutney served as the perfect complement. It becomes a bit of a mess toward the end, as the fried batter begins to fall apart, but it's just as good with a fork.

The other plates were either hit or miss. The lamb tibs were tasty, but nowhere near as juicy as those made by RAS's Ethiopian counterparts along 9th Street NW. The Jamaican jerk chicken seemed subpar, since it came with a container of jerk sauce on the side, which could have used a bit more kick. However, the gouda grits were absolutely excellent and made for a terrific side dish.

The Verdict: RAS is a great addition to a string of innovative new spots up along Georgia Avenue. The bake and shark is an absolute must and an interesting eat to say the least. But you can definitely find better Ethiopian and Jamaican options throughout the city.

The Spot: Sweet Mango Cafe, 3701 New Hampshire Ave. NW (202-726-2646)

The Cuisine: Jamaican, Caribbean

The Go-To Dishes: fried plantains, oxtail, jerk chicken

The Scoop: There are only a few things in this world that get me as excited as Jamaican food. I had been hearing about Reginald James' Sweet Mango Cafe for some time now, and when I got the chance to try it last Friday night, I pounced. I quickly assembled a team of three of my trusted companions to join me for dinner, not because I particularly enjoy their company but because I wanted to try everything on the menu.

Entering through the front entrance, located across the street from the Georgia Avenue Metro, we were met with a room full of takeout patrons waiting for their plantains and oxtails. My initial impression? Chaos. However, we quickly learned there was a sit-down section upstairs. Man, was I glad about that.

While there was a little outdoor balcony overlooking the Metro, the tables were full, so we settled on a spot inside, in a space clearly built for drinking and deejaying. For entrees, we decided on the goat curry, oxtail, red snapper, and jerk chicken (both white and dark meat), while for starters, we opted for the fried plantains, a beef patty, and a loaf of coco bread. To wash it down, I ordered a Jamaican soda, mostly out of curiosity, and the standard island lager, Red Stripe.

A few minutes later, a waiter arrived to tell us they were out of the red snapper, but to ease our pain, he presented us with an extra order of plantains on the house and offered to fry us up a piece of kingfish instead. Throughout the night, the waitstaff was extremely accommodating, courteous and attentive, and pretty damn funny, too.

It's safe to say those fried plantains rocked my world. They had a juicy texture and were perfectly sweet. The extra order did not go to waste. The beef patty, by contrast, seemed ordinary. Same for the coco bread. We could have skipped both and not lost any sleep it. But the plantains, we be jammin'!

As with the starters, the entrees arrived in Styrofoam takeout boxes. The aroma wafting from those containers put me in a drugged state of euphoria. I first started on the curry goat, which came with a side of rice. The meat was tender and the curry mild. It had good flavor, but I would have preferred more spice. The oxtail was especially tasty. I've had the pleasure of sampling a good deal of oxtail in my time, and this was quality stuff. The meat, however, was quite fatty, which meant it pretty much melted in my mouth. I was glad to share this with others, since it's not a dish I could eat by myself.

The kingfish was lightly fried and full of flavor, which led me to gnaw on the bones, trying to suck up every last bit. As good as the fish was, though, it paled next to the jerk chicken. You have an option of all white meat for an extra two bucks, which we tried, but I also asked for some dark meat on the side. The flavor was tremendous, with a spicy kick at the end. Nothing we tried, though, was too hot for our palates.

We must have looked like we couldn't handle heat, however. The waitstaff trotted out bottled water on the house for us to wash down all the food.

The Verdict: Go. Go now. Sweet Mango Cafe is not just a place that you should hit when in Petworth, it's a place that should be sought out.

The night-time sound track at Patty Boom Boom is so intense, I feel it in my chest before I walk through the door.  An infectious bass drop punctuated by a strumming, up-beat three chord guitar is a constant, and while Toots and the Maytals sing love is gonna let me down, I know one thing that won’t — the meat patties here.

The front counter take-out is good for plenty more than a late-night bite. The Jamaican pastries are substantial and stick to your ribs. One makes a decent lunch; two will keep you fueled for the day.

I spent a week in Jamaica last summer, touring most of the island and exploring its cuisine, and between sweat-inducing meals of roadside jerk chicken, breadfruit, and festival, I downed countless golden yellow patties.  Chef James Claudio from nearby Marvin handles the island pastries at PBB, and he does a decent job of maintaining authenticity while modernizing and refining a traditional recipe.

My favorite is pimento chicken, the spiciest of PBB’s offerings, which boasts a filling spiked with scotch bonnet and cherry peppers, onions, garlic, and nutmeg. My second choice is a spicy beef filling comprised of loose ground meat flavored lightly with curry. If you’re not a hot head, the jerk chicken rendition is surprisingly mild, and those feeling less than carnivorous can tear into the Caribbean vegetable version.

The patties I tried a few months ago were drier than I’d like — a problem that turned me into a cotton-mouthed mute as I stumbled around U Street eating— but lately I’ve encountered considerably less chalky renditions. If the recipes haven’t changed, maybe it’s the dining approach I’ve honed over my last few visits.

To get the most enjoyment from my meat patty, I supplement each order with a tall can of Red Stripe lager and a plastic container of sweet mango hot sauce.  Then I oscillate between dips, bites, and sips. The mango hot sauce is bright and acidic, with a forward sweetness that cuts its own heat and the Red Stripe reminds me of simple beach-side meals I had on the island.  Picking at the crumbs left in an empty paper wrapper, I’m definitely smiling — a return trip to funky funky Kingston on my mind.

My stomach is fine this morning. My conscience is still a little bruised.

You can read about my adventures in strip-club cuisine in four easy installments below. But one final note before you do.

To the guy who smirked at me on the sidewalk as I oozed out of Camelot yesterday, trying to quickly melt back into decent society: I swear to God it was a working lunch!

Hmm, wonder how many dudes have uttered that to a disapproving spouse/girlfriend?

1. My Lunch at Camelot Show Bar: The Tape Worm Incident
2. My Lunch at Camelot Show Bar: The Jerk Chicken
3. My Dinner at Crystal City Restaurant: A Bit of Vegas in Arlington
4. My Dinner at Crystal City Restaurant: The World's Thinnest Strip Steak

When the discussion turns to ethnic eats in the D.C. area, Caribbean and/or Jamaican cuisine often gets the shaft. It’s always Ethiopian this, Vietnamese that. The fact is, the District and surrounding areas are crawling with quality Caribbean joints, whether Caribbean Palace, the outstanding Trinidadian takeout in Takoma Park, or the Junction International Market and Jerk Center in Chillum. The sole reason to step foot into Junction is for its jerk chicken; your Styrofoam clamshell comes stuffed with grilled, gorgeously charred bird parts drizzled with the darkest, pepper-flecked sauce you’ll ever lay eyes on. The sauce’s sweetness is, in part, derived from caramel, which helps defuse the fowl’s search-and-destroy level of heat. This is jerk chicken for those who want more than a cosmic burn.

 Junction International Market and Jerk Center. 900 Chillum Road, Chillum, (301) 853-0193

But when I arrived at the Jamaican-theme carry-out at 900 Chillum Road, I asked the guy at the counter whether they bake or grill their jerk chicken. When he said the latter, I knew I had to try the dish, since so many other joints bake their jerked birds (Young & Hungry, "Jerked Around," 7/7/06). I ordered a quarter bird with rice and beans, a beef patty, and coco bread. When I flipped open the Styrofoam clamshell that concealed my chicken, I discovered a gorgeous collection of grilled parts drizzled with the darkest, pepper-flecked sauce I'd ever seen.

They tasted even better than they looked. Some of the thicker breast pieces were slightly dry, but the wings and thighs were moist, charred, sweet, and hot enough to keep me reaching for my bottle of ginger beer. It was the sweetness that sealed the deal for me; it balanced out the distinguishing characteristic of jerk chicken—its flame-throwing heat—and provided a depth of flavor typically missing from such many one-dimensional dishes.

I asked the counter man what the source of the sweetness was. I wondered aloud if it were molasses, given the color of the sauce. Naturally enough, he wasn't so forthcoming with details; he did confess to the addition of brown sugar, which satisfied me for the moment. But as I was walking out of Junction International Market, I noticed a small bottle of "browning sauce" on the shelves next to the Jamaican breads. The liquid was as dark as the tip of a burned match. I read the label and noticed that browning sauce is made with caramel.

As I left Junction, completely content with my new go-to place for jerk chicken, I asked the counter man if the sauce included browning. Bingo!