Jamaican Restaurants near St. Albans, NY

“I love Jamaican Flavors patties. First time I had Ackee patties, I fell in love. I was recommended by one of the workers to try the impossible patty, the vegetable partty and I can say they are delicious. I love the impossible patty, will definitely try that and all the other two I purchased. The cake I bought I love it. I usually order the chocolate, but this one yummy. Thanks for your service and I will continue to support.“

“I dont normally leave reviews but I felt like I needed to leave one. I purchased an oxtail meal with rice and peas and a side of steam veg here and I can confidently say that it was good, wasnt disappointed at all. the service I received was good as well.“

“There food is grate, reminds me of home. Staff is warm, friendly and easy to get along with. Now add to there cozy dinning is a mini bar where you can enjoy a drink of your choice either before or after your mean or if you just need a drink. Don't worry your drink can be as cold as North pole but the warn smile of the bar maid lovely call "Pinky" might just make you drink and don't even realize you have a brain freeze. Stop by and get the experience.“

“Stopped here on a Sunday night as they were about to close they were pretty much out of everything. Kerry Ann was kind enough to make us some fresh fried fish and chicken topped it off with some extras. Super amazing customer service. Their coconut drops and peanut cake reminded me so much of back home, jamaica. Overall I had a great experience and will definitely stop by if I'm ever in the area.“

“awesome place to eat very clean“

“Excellent & professional service. Your warm welcome and generous accommodations were greatly appreciated. Highly recommend. Authentic & delicious food. The atmosphere & ambiance were exceptional. Special acknowledgement to the owner & my dear friend, Naala & her professional & courteous staff, Shari, Jermaine, Nick & the entire Dunns River Lounge Staff in Rockville Centre, NY“

“Delicious food, thoughtful and responsive service, live music for Mother’s Day, a completely fun experience! 😊“

“This place had some of the best jerk chicken I ever had in my life. I've gone back 3x times in the past month and they are not there anymore. Does anyone have an updated location for this jerk pit?Because now I'm sad...sad spelled backwards is das and das not good :/“

“I went in expecting dinner. I left questioning the very concept of reality.

First, the building itself seems to have been constructed in a parallel universe where architects hate humans. The walls were misaligned, the ceiling sagged like it was mourning, and a single, flickering light overhead created shadows that seemed to whisper, “Why are you here?” The entrance mat was sticky—like a portal designed to trap souls. My shoes protested violently as I stepped on it, and I briefly considered amputating my feet just to escape the adhesive horror.

Once inside, the air assaulted me. It smelled like wet newspapers left in a closet with a single shoe and the faint regret of a thousand broken dreams. My lungs burned, my sinuses flared, and I swear I could hear the air itself groaning in despair. A ceiling fan rotated at the speed of glacial movement, stirring despair into the already tragic atmosphere.

I sat down on a chair that had clearly been passed down from the Stone Age. When I shifted my weight, it emitted a series of sounds—cracks, pops, groans—that could be interpreted as a complex language of suffering. The table wobbled like it was testing my patience. There were stains on the surface in patterns reminiscent of ancient constellations—but instead of stars, they were old spaghetti sauce.

The menu looked like it had been printed during a war. Pages were torn, faded, damp, and one was inexplicably sticky with something I refused to identify. The handwriting of the specials appeared to have been scrawled by a frenzied raccoon in a creative rage. Dishes included “Mystery Meat Surprise,” “Something That Probably Was Once Food,” and “Chef’s Emotional Breakdown Platter.”

I chose the safest item: soup. The bowl arrived lukewarm. The liquid quivered as if it had consciousness, and the aroma was simultaneously pungent, metallic, and vaguely apologetic. I took a sip and experienced a flavor so complex that my brain short-circuited: notes of sadness, despair, and wet cardboard intermingled with a hint of existential dread. I pushed the bowl away and wept quietly into my napkin.

Attempting to use the bathroom was another saga. The door would not open without a Herculean effort. The floor was sticky. The sink produced a trickle that sounded like a dying animal. The mirror was scratched and fogged, making me look like a character from a psychological horror movie. The toilet barely functioned. I am certain the plumbing was designed as a social experiment in futility.

The staff, when they appeared, moved as if they were in slow motion, trapped in a parallel reality where human interaction was optional. Asking for water took fifteen minutes. Asking for the check took twenty-three. My existence was tested. My patience was burned to ash.

When finally escaping, I felt sunlight as if it were a spiritual intervention. Birds chirped in joy. I collapsed on the sidewalk, grateful to be back in the real world.

If this place were a movie, it would be “The Neverending Nightmare: Restaurant Edition.”
If it were a natural disaster, it would be on the Richter scale of 12.
If it were a lesson, it would be “How to Permanently Question All Life Choices.”“