final meal

Yesterday, I ate my final meal at Pimenta, a Jamaican restaurant in Historic Fredericksburg, a few steps away from where Mike works downtown. As I told Mike today, though, I didn't think Pimenta had put its best foot forward.

the restaurant's front (it was a rainy Friday)

almost stereotypical menu and imagery... but tasteful and restrained

ordering was via QR code—do it all on your phone, including paying

I'd questioned the design choice that had led to the "t" in "Pimenta" being light yellow on a light background. Mike argued that the yellow was part of the Jamaican flag's colors, which made sense, but which didn't explain the light background that made the "t" almost invisible.

I'd ordered two things: curried goat, and a pair of spicy Jamaican beef patties. My goat (which was nicely cooked) came with plantains and mac-n-cheese (the carby sides I'd chosen).

Mike got the curry shrimp (not pictured). My curry ended up being earthy and good; Mike's was also very good, but more herby than earthy. My dish could've been hotter (temperature-wise), though. It felt as though it had rested on a counter for a while.

Our server was a friendly if slightly goofy young guy who guided us through the ordering process and offered us drinks. Mike and I elected to pay separately, but both drinks appeared on my tab. Not a big deal: each was only $3.

a wider shot of the tasteful restaurant interior

Mike worries that Pimenta might be going the way of the town's other Jamaican resto, Taste of Trelawney, which may have gone out of business. Pimenta was pretty empty for a Friday lunch in the business part of the old town.

digital-zoom shot of a bear across the street and in the rain, apparently after a night of partying

It took a million years for my beef patties to appear. First, our server apologetically told me that the first set of patties were mistakenly curry, not the spicy beef I'd ordered. Did I want the curry, anyway? I said no. Frankly, I found it incredible that the resto might get my order wrong given that we were almost alone in the restaurant, but I didn't say that to the server. (My brother David used to work as a server at California Pizza Kitchen, and he would often come home with stories of obnoxious customers constantly mouthing off about trivial matters, demanding impeccable service despite their boorish behavior. I sympathize and never want to become one of those people.) When the server went back to get my order right, the process again took a long time, with the server coming back at one point to say, again apologetically, that the order would be another five minutes. I wish I could have had eyes in the kitchen to see just what was going on. I get that the patties' dough might need to be rolled out, shaped, and filled, but the making of the dough doesn't need to be from scratch, and the same goes for the patties' spicy-beef filling which, in a kitchen, ought to be clearly labeled and ready to go. Roll, shape the dough, fill and close the patty, crimp the edges, and bake. Maybe the baking is what was taking so long. I can't think of a way to flash-bake a beef patty (not so different from a Cornish pasty) without burning the outer dough while leaving the inner dough raw. Anyway, I remained outwardly patient and tolerant, realizing that, in the food-service world, These Things Happen. The server did mention that the cook was new, which felt a bit like throwing her under the bus, but which might simply have been the honest truth.

The patties did eventually come out almost an hour after I'd received my goat:

both patties, looking a lot like what you get at 7-Eleven

left patty

right patty, having created its own vent

The patty's crust was plenty flaky; I imagine a lot of effort went into that. The spicy-beef filling was okay, but there were some strange spices and seasonings in there, and not a lot of Scotch bonnet pepper (traditional for Jamaican beef patties). Still, the whole thing was good and edible, especially the patties' crusty outer edge.

Since I had taken the plunge into massive carb overload, I'd been prepared to do dessert after lunch, but because of the long wait for the patties, I'd had time to start digesting the first plate. When I finished both patties, I was feeling full and decided against dessert (at a place down the street), just ending the somewhat disappointing lunch there.

All in all, Pimenta wasn't a horrible experience by a long shot. The server was friendly and had the decency to be apologetic when things went a bit awry. He plied me and Mike with questions about how we knew each other (friends since third grade) and told us a bit about himself and his girlfriend of two years. I appreciated his coaching at the beginning re: QR codes and whatnot; I don't normally use QR codes in Korea unless I have to (they'd been a big part of entry into stores and buildings during COVID). And how awry did things get? I did eventually get everything I'd ordered; my only problem at the end was that the server said he'd appreciate a cash tip instead of a tip via cell phone/QR, but all I had in my wallet was 20s and a 100-dollar bill, so I left a 20 for my $40 meal—a 50% tip. Mike left his own tip (via phone, I think), so our server was, I hope, a happy camper.

All that said, Pimenta didn't leave me with the best impression. Getting an order wrong, taking so long with service, then not having the foresight to have cash on hand when someone needs to break a 20-dollar bill are all strikes against the restaurant. I will probably never go back, but at the same time, I'll feel sorry if/when the business goes under. If I remember to, I'll ask Mike next year whether Pimenta is still around.

That was yesterday. Today, I toured the Spotsylvania Court House Battlefield and other areas with Mike, who gave me the full tour. Expect a ton of pics.

From here on in, it's water and diet drinks until Seoul. And since my blood sugar is wrecked, and I have barely a month until my May doctor's appointment, I'm going to have little choice but to crack down on my diet upon my return.