What to Eat in the Caribbean

The Caribbean stretches across the Greater and Lesser Antilles, where trade winds, coral shelves, and volcanic soils shape what ends up on the plate. A humid tropical climate favors plantains, cassava, breadfruit, citrus, and okra, while surrounding seas provide reef fish, conch, and lobster. Preservation by salting and pickling remains practical in heat and hurricane season.

Daily eating patterns balance hearty home cooking with vibrant street stalls. Breakfasts can be substantial, midday meals lighter in the heat, and weekends often center on communal pots and family tables where African, Indigenous, European, Indian, and Chinese influences converge.

Ackee and saltfish is Jamaica’s national dish, built from the island’s national fruit and preserved Atlantic cod. Salted fish is soaked and simmered to reduce salinity, then sautéed with onions, scallions, thyme, tomatoes, and a measured slice of Scotch bonnet in coconut oil or butter. Parboiled ackee—only harvested when the pods open naturally—is folded in gently so the golden lobes stay intact, yielding a silky, custard-like texture against flaky, savory fish. The result is briny, herbal, and lightly peppery, commonly paired with fried dumplings, roasted breadfruit, bammy, or boiled green bananas and eaten at breakfast or Sunday brunch at home and on beachside mornings. Ackee arrived in Jamaica from West Africa in the 18th century, and the technique of salting cod reflects colonial-era trade networks that still shape island pantries today. Because of Jamaica’s heat and humidity, this sauté cooks quickly and is served warm rather than piping hot, preserving the fruit’s delicate bite. It appears in homes across the island all week, yet also marks festive gatherings where a broad spread might include callaloo, ripe plantain, and cocoa tea.

Doubles, the runaway street-food favorite of Trinidad and Tobago, layers curried chickpeas between two baras—soft, turmeric-tinted fried flatbreads. The chana is simmered with curry powder, geera (toasted ground cumin), garlic, and culantro, yielding a saucy filling that seeps into the breads. Vendors assemble each order with tamarind chutney, cucumber, a flick of hot pepper sauce, and often green mango kuchela, balancing tang, heat, sweetness, and spice. Eaten standing at roadside stalls from early dawn to late night, doubles embodies Indo-Trinidadian heritage from the plantation era and today feeds office workers, schoolchildren, and revelers between fêtes. The texture is messy in the best way—pillowy, slippery, and aromatic—and the dish’s portability suits a climate where quick, fresh, handheld food thrives. Because vendors fry baras in batches, the breads stay warm and pliant, and the chickpeas remain tender without turning mushy.

Mofongo is a Puerto Rican classic built on green plantains sliced, fried, and pounded in a wooden pilón with garlic, olive oil, and crispy chicharrón. The mash is shaped into a bowl or mound and moistened with chicken or seafood broth, then topped or filled with stewed meats or sautéed shrimp for a complete meal. Dense, garlicky, and punctuated by crunchy pork bits, mofongo reflects African techniques of pounding starchy staples, adapted to New World plantains under Spanish influence. It appears at lunch and dinner from coastal towns to mountain communities, with versions that lean on seafood near the shore and hearty gravies inland. Some cooks add a touch of butter or achiote oil for color and aroma, while careful frying keeps the plantain pieces golden and dry before mashing so the final texture is cohesive rather than pasty. The dish’s satisfying starch and assertive seasoning suit humid weather, delivering energy without heavy sauces, and leftovers reheat well in home kitchens.

Griot with pikliz is a Haitian pairing that contrasts crisp pork with bright, fiery pickles. Pork shoulder is marinated in a Haitian epis—a blend of scallions, parsley, thyme, garlic, and peppers—plus sour orange or lime, then simmered until tender and shallow-fried until the edges crackle. Pikliz combines shredded cabbage, carrots, onion, and Scotch bonnet in vinegar and salt, developing a clean, sharp bite that cuts the richness of the meat. The plate often includes diri kole ak pwa (rice with red beans) or fried plantains, making a balanced, celebratory spread. Served at weekend gatherings, holidays, and life events, griot embodies Creole culinary craft where preservation, citrus, and chiles meet thrift and technique. The flavors are vivid—juicy, salty pork with a citrus backbone, chased by a crunchy, sour heat that wakes the palate.

Oil down is Grenada’s signature one-pot stew built around breadfruit simmered in coconut milk until the liquid reduces and the oils “go down.” Cooks layer the pot with breadfruit wedges, callaloo or other greens, carrots, dumplings, and savory pieces like salted pigtail, saltfish, or chicken, seasoning with thyme, scallions, turmeric or annatto, and black pepper. Gentle heat coaxes tender textures while the breadfruit absorbs coconut richness and the salted meats perfume the pot. The finished stew is plush and aromatic, with pockets of spice and a faint smokiness from cured cuts. Oil down anchors neighborhood cook-ups and evening socials, often prepared outdoors in large batches that suit Grenada’s social food culture and mild evenings. Letting the pot rest before serving helps the coconut fat settle and gives the dumplings a satisfying chew. It is eaten warm with spoons and fingers alike, a complete meal shaped by island bounty and the practical need to feed many from one vessel.

The Caribbean table blends tropical produce, preserved staples, and centuries of migration into dishes built for heat, celebration, and daily life. From breakfast sautés to communal stews and vivid street snacks, technique matters as much as ingredients. Explore more regional food guides, weather patterns, and trip-planning tools on Sunheron.com, and use them to time markets, festivals, and beach days around the plates you most want to try.