Midnight snack attacks are serious business, and my latest late-night epiphany happened over a steaming cardboard takeout box.
Picture this: me, sitting in my parked car under a flickering streetlamp, utterly mesmerized by a mound of jerk fried rice that smelled like a Caribbean vacation crossed with an Asian night market.
Some folks find their epiphanies in quiet art galleries or mountain tops; I found mine in a sweet-and-spicy blend of tender chicken, jerk seasoning, and wok-tossed grains that hit every single flavor receptor at once…