I must have been about 10 years old when my aunt and uncle had gone on vacation in Canada and I spent the nights (weekends) with my older cousin. With an entire house to ourselves, you can only imagine the commess (creative trouble) we got into. It was about 11 pm one night when we decided we'd make fried chicken. Beyond the total destruction of the kitchen (oil and flour everywhere), we ended up with bland over-cooked chicken. As with any true Caribbean child, we employed the use of peppersauce, ketchup and mustard to salvage things.