Back A Yard

The scent of fried meat wafted into my nostrils as I walked up the street towards Back A Yard Grill, located 1189 Willow Rd. I had come prepared to dine with fervor, but who knew the scent of oxtails would trigger such a rumbling in my belly?

Apparently word had spread around Menlo Park that Chef Robert Simpson knows what he's doing. All but one table in the cozy restaurant bore patrons; and a line of people ready to order almost reached the door. 

As I strolled towards the bright green counter, I resolved to try something different, something I'd never even dream of making on my own. Back A Yard's menu options are anything but ordinary, ranging from curry goat to a escoveitch fish served whole. 

But, I couldn't bring myself to order the oxtails, despite my famished state. I went with the signature Ackee and Codfish plate, a freshly made juice, and a slice of pecan pie. I was very curious to know if cooks on this side of the country know how to make a decent pecan pie, as well as what it was doing on a Caribbean menu. 

As I briefly mused upon possible reasons, a very young waitress of few words placed a plate of neatly arranged food onto the table in front of me. Two fried plantains were lined up next to two sesame colored bread rolls and two scoops of white rice with red beans, atop a plate as wide as my shoulders. I forgot all about my P90X nutrition plan's suggested serving sizes and dug in. 

The first to fall victim to my ravenous appetite were the bread rolls. The exterior was as light and crispy as a state fair funnel cake with a satisfying crunch that contrasted with the soft muffin-like consistency of the interior. The flavor can be compared to a sweetened corn bread that I had the last time I was in Georgia.

The caramel brown plantain skin was chewy, and the inside burst forth from within it, unable to remain firm under the pressure. I suspect they were sweetened, for they tasted very much like a ripe banana, not the usually bland plantain with which I've become familiar. These vanished lickety split, for they were a sheer delight to the palate.

Those aren't the words I would use to describe the beans and rice experience, however. The consistency of the rice grains led me to believe that they had either in the pot for too long, or had been previously refrigerated; they were dry and flavor free. 

I had waited to try the main course, Ackee and Cod, last. As I tend to be a bit of a health nut, I was taken aback at what appeared to be scrambled eggs and very tender fish doused with canola oil. I reminded myself of my mission to explore tastes unknown and took a bite. One bite was all it took to know that I simply wasn't a fan and moved on. 

The pecan pie was nothing like the molasses-rich pastries that southern belles bake on Sunday afternoons. It was strikingly similar to bread pudding with raw pecans in texture and flavor. I probably would have finished it had I not aleady been slipping into a hyperglycemic coma induced by the fresh mango "juice."

In the end, I would probably return to the place to experience the other dishes on the menu; a place cannot be judged solely on the merits of one visit and one meal.

If anything, I would return for the ambiance. The place felt as though a chunk of St. Lucia had been teleported from the U.S. Virgin Islands into East Menlo Park.  As I departed that day, an older gentlemen with salt and pepper hair was still sitting at a round table out front, talking on his clam shell cell phone, while a very young boy straddled a stunt bike next to him, a white ear bud cord streaming from his ear to his pocket. No one seemed to mind.