We were told that Chicken Rita\u2019s served the best chicken in all of Barbados.<\/p>\n
You have to curl and curve a bit to get there, navigating the narrow, broken roads until you come upon a small, rum shack set back a bit from the road. Remote from the perspective of a tourist, it seemed that this just happened to be where Rita lived as opposed to being the result of any sort of opportunistic business stratagem. <\/p>\n
<\/a><\/p>\n It was early afternoon and we were the only people in the two-table place. The pair of middle-aged women we encountered seemed indifferent to our arrival, maybe even a little bit confused by it, as if we\u2019d gotten lost, happened into their kitchen and awoken them from naps. Without being particularly eager to impress, they decided they\u2019d cook us some lunch, moving heavy and wordless back to the kitchen. <\/p>\n It took a long time, and as it was a very hot and humid day, Rachelle retreated to the protection of the AC of the car. Shortly after, the rain came in relieving torrents. The chickens that had been roaming freely in front all scattered, but the Blackbelly sheep in the field across the street were completely immobilized, as if cast under a spell. It was mysterious, almost mystical for me to see them frozen like that and I was utterly transfixed. One of the women looked at me and shook her head, \u201cSweet Jesus, it like you never see sheep before!\u201d she said, as she shuttered the windows and closed the doors, the scent of pot drifting in with the wind and spray. <\/p>\n