“What is that?” ten-year-old Jennifer asked her nanny.
“Why little darlin’, dem’s fried plantains,” Suzanna said.
“Plantains? What are plantains?” Jennifer wanted to know.
“Plantains, sweet honey, are like bananas,” Suzanna said. “You like bananas, don’t you?”
Jennifer was skeptical. “Those don’t look like bananas,” she said.
Suzanna laughed, “No, dems don’t look like bananas cause dey been fried up nice and crispy.”
Still skeptical, Jennifer was hesitant. “I don’t know, Suzanna.”
“Dey like banana chips,” Suzanna said in a reassuring voice. “I make dem nice and sweet cause I fry dem wif sugar in da oil.”
“So are they like potato chips but made from bananas instead of potatoes?” Jennifer asked.
“Dey better dan potato chips, sweetie,” Suzanna replied. “Dey sweet, not salty. Try one.”
“Okay, Suzanna.” Jennifer tentatively reached out and grabbed the smallest plantain chip from the plate. She slowly brought the small chip to her mouth and placed the chip inside.
“So, you like Suzanna’s Jamaican fried plantain chips?” Suzanna asked.
Jennifer looked at her nanny and simply said, “They suck.”
Written for this week’s Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers from Priceless Joy. Image credit: Yarndpinnerr.
To be honest, I have no clue what’s in the plate in that photo and I’ve never tasted Jamaican plantain chips, which I’m sure are delicious.