Say it ain't so, mon
Say it ain’t so, mon. Tell me the cocaine police say you sold them was cumin. Tell me you’ll sell me oxtail again when this big misunderstanding is over. Tell me you are not a Jamaican jerk.
Ainsley Edwards – owner of Leonie’s Jamaican Cuisine in Canton – was arrested a day after I got my last meal from him. On a Friday he was dishing me up some jerk chicken and talking about opening another restaurant in Potsdam. On Saturday he was in a police station posing for photographs in front of a chart that showed how tall he was without a chef’s hat on. http://www.watertowndailytimes.com/article/20090508/NEWS05/305089959
All this is very sad, because dude could really cook. He was the real Jamaican deal, serving up things like stew – not stewed – beef, and curry – not curried - chicken. The food was good, plentiful, and cheap. Maybe that last thing was the problem.
If a restaurant is going to succeed at $8 a plate, it better have lots of customers. The north country isn’t the most daring place when it comes to food. Chinese buffets are about as exotic as we get ... but even then, there better be pizza somewhere on the steam tables. So maybe not enough of us dared to take a culinary step to Ainsley’s island for a plate of curry goat. And maybe he turned to drugs to support his cooking habit.
I hope none of this is true. Ainsley always seemed like a nice guy willing to work hard to eke out a living. His bling was a starched chef’s jacket and hat. Sometimes his cuter than cute baby girl would be sleeping in a playpen while he was skinning chicken legs in the open kitchen or out front spooning food into a to-go container for a customer. I never saw evidence of other employees in the many times I stopped in for dinner. He was sous-chef, chef, waiter and probably the dish washer, too.
Normally, he was a man of few words. This is how it usually went when you stopped in for dinner: “What can I get you? To go? Rice, or rice and peas? Do you need silverware? Do you need a plastic bag? $8.60. Have a nice day.” Last week, though, he was especially chatty after I asked him if the rumor about him opening a place in Potsdam was true. Not only was it true, he had already scoped out places downtown – eliminating one and seriously considering another. He was excited. I left smiling. The only thing better than having a Jamaican restaurant in the north country would have been having a Jamaican restaurant close enough for me to walk to from my home.
Maybe that walk might still be possible one day. Innocent until proven guilty is the law of the land, afterall. When Ainsley went to court this week to hear what the police said he did, he told the judge it ain’t so. He also told a reporter afterwards that he was anxious to get the legal mess straightened out so he could reopen his little restaurant. That’s what I needed to hear, mon. I only hope it was the truth.
