This is a story of a culinary adventure. One that sent shivers down my spine when I realized what I got us into. br/On the third day of our stay on the island, I did a quick supermarket run for some snacks and breakfastables. In the produce section, under the sign "Locally Grown", I picked up a clear plastic container with little yellowish "brains" on shiny black stems. The label simply said "Ackees". I recalled seeing the word on the menu the day before, and even wanted to order the dish then (a Jamaican specialty of Salt Fish amp; Ackees), but the restaurant was out of the mysterious fruit. So it was an easy buying decision. br/br/In fact, I was so excited about finding this previously-unknown to me delicacy, that I had to taste it and... give some to my hubby. It wasn't particularly delicious raw - a distinctive taste of sweet and umami (that cheesy flavor), with a texture of a fresh soft chestnut. br/br/"Hmm... May be it needs to be cooked", thought I, and entered the name from the label into the search box. Right away I noticed a couple of uncomfortable suggestions: following "ackee recipe" and "ackee fruit" was "ackee poisoning" and "ackee jamaican sickness." I was beginning to feel tense in my throat and skipping the recipe suggestions, clicked on the Wikipedia article. The "Biochemistry of Ackee Poisoning" section had a bunch of scientific terms describing the chemical reaction. Not helpful. br/br/Next was an article on "Toxicity, Plants - Ackee Fruit" from eMedicine.com. The letters on the page were getting jumbled and in my panic I just saw: br/br/em"The seeds and the membrane at the base of the seed mantle are always poisonous." /embr/br/em"Ackee poisoning produces nausea and acute vomiting without diarrhea, followed by dizziness, slight fever, convulsions, coma and death." /embr/br/If this was a movie, I should've fainted, but this was real life and in real life my biggest worry was breaking the news to the hypochondriac in the room. My husband is a professional worrier. Fate has saved me from an overbearingly worrying Jewish mother, but it compensated in other ways (of course, he would claim that with the given wife, he doesn't have a choice. Should've thought about it before!) br/br/To appease the sense of uneasiness that, admittedly, both of us felt (and to save the evening's dinner reservation at a very special eatery), I needed to find a voice of authority on the issue. Someone, who would know these little buggers like the back of their hand, someone, like the innkeeper! br/br/The inn was kept by a sweet old "Mom amp; Pop" couple. Pop did all the maintenance on the place, like building a dock and installing the ladder for easy snorkeling access, while Mom ran the office and grandmotherly accommodated their guests. In her spare time Mom made plastic flower arrangements, and these inorganic blooms beautified (or marred, depending on the beholder) the balconies and porches of their otherwise agreeable inn. It was an early evening, and all the check-ins and check-outs were done for the day. I found Mom in their house, which is part of the hotel. She opened the mesh door and immediately recognized anguish on my face. I attempted to deliver my question in the calmest way possible, punctuated by the uncertainly raised eyebrows. She appeared a bit concerned and led me into her kitchen, where she pulled out a whole bag of these yellowish little brains from her fridge. br/br/"Do they look like these ones? Without any purple films on them?" - she asked in a distinct Caymanian accent, pointing to the smooth fruits. And it seemed to me that they did, so we both exhaled and smiled. "They just wouldn't sell it if it wasn't ok to eat," she said with relief, "They just wouldn't sell it." br/br/She quickly established that there was probably nothing to worry about, especially since the fruit came from the supermarket. She also gave me some tips on how to cook them. "The cleaning lady is from Jamaica," she said, "and they like it with the salt fish. But I just like to put them on the frying pan with a bit of margarine. You can use butter, but I like margarine better, and sauté until they're soft." And then she gave me a hug. From that point on I reluctantly accepted my role as someone who needed extra helping of her generous sympathy and attention. br/br/It seemed that our evening was saved! We went ahead and (tried to) enjoy a very nice meal at a little-known foodie's delight - The Brasserie, hidden in an office park among PWC's, HSBC's, and 800 other off-shore banks that litter the island. br/br/Still, I waited for two days until attempting to cook the exotic fruit. I liked the idea of simply sautéing them with some margarine or butter, but I didn't have any of the above ritually-proper fats and it seemed wasteful to buy a whole package just for a one-time use. I did, however, have a few slices of the La Quercia prosciutto that I wasn't willing to let dry out in the fridge in our absence. That was going to give me just enough fat to sauté a cup of the ackees. Half way through the cooking I added freshly chopped tomatoes and checked for salt. br/br/Sautéed ackee came out scrumptious! They made a nice little side dish for our picnic lunch at Smith Cove. Too bad hubby refused to have anything to do with them anymore.