Levi Roots shot to fame on Dragon’s Den, impressing the dragons with his Reggae
Reggae Sauce, based on the traditional recipes he learned growing up on Jamaica

When I visit my family, or they come round to my place, cooking goes on all day. My sister Jean is a regular visitor, with her husband Clint and their daughters Yvonne and Michelle. They like it spicy! And it warms my heart to cook with them, having them help to prepare a chicken curry and some rum punch. Laid-back and relaxed people always end up together in the kitchen, and I like that. There are never any problems, apart from the pots taking too long to boil!

When I was growing up in Jamaica, my grandmother taught me so much about cooking… and not just how to chop and stir. Gran loved to cook for a lot of people, often ten or more. People would come round to our neighbour’s house and Gran would cook for the evening. She’d be repaid for her work by her joy at people saying the food was wonderful. Everyone was really poor back then, so what we ate would depend on who had something to cook. If my grandfather had harvested that day – dug some yams, or got some callalloo and cabbages – we’d know we had food in abundance. And if you had too much, you’d give it away. People didn’t have money to buy local food, it was just given. You’d put out what you couldn’t eat and people would take it.

If it was a day with lots of food, then my grandmother would cook and the visitors would bring down their work. If a family was tying tobacco leaves, they’d bring a bag of that. If someone had coffee to grind, they’d bring along the mortar and pestle. If you had some corn to shell from the husk, you’d bring four or five bagfuls. We would all share the work and talk and eat together. When the night was over, everyone went home with their work finished – all done and dusted – having had a great time and lots of good food.

The Caribbean is famous for its spices. Island food is full of fragrant flavours, markets are piled high with vibrant chillies and warm breezes and trade winds bear the scent of nutmeg and allspice. Back in the day, spices used to be as expensive as gold, kept under lock and key, and you can see why.

Food can be so bland and normal. The big ingredients – the yams and potatoes – make up the bulk of what goes into the pot, but it’s the small ones – the nutmeg, the pepper, the cinnamon – that create the flavours. They’re the ones that do the tricks. Look how small cardamom and mustard seeds are, and yet how vivid.

The wonder of Caribbean food is that it’s so varied. The motto of Jamaica is ‘Out of many, one people’ because there are so many races together on the island, and all these people bring their own regional cuisine with them. There are lots of Indian people, for example, and they cook traditional Indian food.

When I was growing up on Jamaica we had the hot spices – the ginger and chillies – and the flavoursome herb thyme growing wild in our garden. Nutmeg was grown locally, and someone around our village of Content would give us some in exchange for vegetables that we had grown. Then we would go and get other spices from the spice lady in the market. We didn’t have a spice rack, we would use what we needed and wrap up the rest to put away and use soon. In those days there wasn’t such a thing as a fridge. Everything was pretty fresh – bought or gathered and used straightaway. And it’s still best not to keep spices for too long, as they lose some of their power.

Back home in London, Mum wants to do everything – and we do the washing up! But as she gets older she’s got to have a bit of a rest and I take over more with the food. The family comes around, we cook loads, then before the meal is eaten there’s always giving thanks. The last word, before tucking in, goes to Mum or the elder at the table. It’s to bless the meal and say thanks for the gathering. You have to give thanks for the little that you get, or for the lot that you get.

Wake-up fishcakes

In Jamaica you eat ackee (the national fruit) and saltfish for breakfast. This recipe doesn’t have ackee, but these zingy fishcakes will still give you a boost at any time of day

Serves 4
200g floury potatoes (such as King Edwards), peeled and cut into large chunks
500g skinless white fillet, such as cod, haddock or pollock
50g dry breadcrumbs
1 red chilli, deseeded and finely chopped
3 tbsp finely chopped fresh coriander
3 spring onions, green parts only, finely chopped
2.5cm piece fresh root ginger, peeled and grated
1⁄2 garlic clove, finely chopped (optional)
Finely grated rind of
11⁄2 limes
Salt
1 large egg, beaten
2 tbsp lime juice
1-2 tbsp olive oil

Put the potato chunks into a saucepan of water and bring to the boil, then reduce the heat and simmer for about 10 minutes or until tender. Drain well.

If you have a steamer, steam the fish in it above the simmering water of the potatoes – the fish is cooked when the flesh just flakes when tested with the tip of a knife. Otherwise, while the potatoes are cooking, poach the fish in a saucepan of gently simmering water or milk for about 5 minutes (or cook in a microwave). Leave the fish to cool slightly, and when cool enough to handle, check it for bones and break into rough flakes. Put the breadcrumbs on a plate.

Mash the potatoes and then mix with the chilli, coriander, spring onion greens, ginger, garlic (if using), lime rind and 1 teaspoon salt. Add the beaten egg to the mixture to bind it.

Pour the lime juice over the flaked fish, then sprinkle on a little salt and gently stir it around with your fingers to season the fish well.

Gently stir the flaked fish into the potato mixture. Form into 4 fishcakes, about 4-5cm thick. Pat them on both sides with bread-crumbs, then put on a clean plate, cover loosely and leave in the fridge for 30 minutes.

Heat the oil in a frying pan over a medium-low heat. Add the fishcakes and cook for about 3 minutes on each side until the outside is nicely brown. Serve with lime wedges and, if having them for lunch or supper, a salad.

Chicken, citrus and pomegranate salad with chilli-honey dressing
Serves 8
1 tbsp olive oil
4 skinless chicken breast fillets, 150g each
Salt and black pepper
4 small oranges
2 ruby grapefruit
1 yellow grapefruit
1 small red onion
Leaves from a generous bunch of mint
1 pomegranate, halved

For the dressing
4 tsp white wine vinegar, or to taste
4 tsp clear honey, or to taste
Salt and black pepper
5 tbsp extra virgin olive oil, or to taste
1 small red chilli, deseeded and finely chopped

First make the dressing. Mix the vinegar, honey, and salt and pepper to taste, together in a shallow serving bowl. Whisk in the extra virgin olive oil with a fork and then add the chilli. Taste for the balance of flavours and adjust.

Heat the olive oil in a frying pan over a medium-high heat. Season the chicken with salt and pepper, add to the pan and cook on each side so that they get a good colour. Reduce the heat to medium-low and cook for about 3 minutes on each side until they are done all the way through – cut into the thickest part of the chicken to check that it is white rather than pink in the middle. Set the chicken aside while you make the rest of the dish.

Treat all the citrus fruit in the same way. Cut a small slice off the top and bottom and set the fruit on a chopping board. Using a very sharp knife, cut off the rind and as much of the white pith as possible, working from top to bottom and slicing around each fruit. Now you can either cut out each segment of fruit by slicing down between the flesh and the membrane, or, if this seems like too much work, cutting each fruit crosswise into slices. Flick out any seeds as you go along. Put into a wide, shallow bowl.

Cut the red onion into very fine slices. Cut the chicken into long, fairly thick slices. Add the dressing to the fruit. Add the chicken and onion to the citrus fruit, then roughly chop the mint and add to the bowl. Flick out the seeds from the pomegranate halves with a fork over the top of the salad just before you bring it to the table.