If necessity is the mother of invention, then not having enough space must be its midwife.
Despite its prominent spot in the Deptford Yard market, Caribbean takeaway Jerk Yard seems to get far less passing custom than its neighbours, such as Taca Tacos. One can only speculate as to why. But perhaps such commercial pressures are a reason why their menu has grown in size, even as their premises remain restrictively cosy. After all, few things can reshape a menu like the need to earn some coin.
Jerk dishes at Jerk Yard
Of all the jerked proteins available at Jerk Yard, the most ordered will inevitably be the classic jerk chicken. At its best, it was an exemplar of what this dish can be, the smoky char of the deftly singed skin breaking apart and transitioning seamlessly into a beguiling blend of citrusy sweetness, spicy heat and moreish tang.
Unfortunately, there was a significant level of inconsistency. The jerk chicken was so alarmingly bland on a subsequent visit, that I briefly wondered if it had come from a Jamie Oliver chain restaurant. Yet on another, jerk wings flapped their way back to their previous glory, or close to it at least.
If you’re a vegetarian in the mood for jerking around, then the halloumi is the way to go. The jerk seasoning and sauce clung tightly to the thin slices of cheese, its bold flavours a fine match for the heft and relative denseness of halloumi.
Vegetarians shouldn’t be tempted by the jerk soya – the burnt, bitty and bland strips had all the appeal of a loose plaster floating around in a swimming pool. Small, somewhat soft prawns were another unsuccessful attempt at providing an alternative for meat dodgers.
Meaty mains at Jerk Yard
Ox tail was served on the bone, as is right and proper. Although not as tender as the version at Yah So, it was still satisfyingly hearty. While the sauce wasn’t as sticky as Yah So’s, it was just as moreish and with a fruity, fiery undercurrent to it.
Curry goat was arguably even better as it had a deeper, richer meatiness. Dense yet tender and earthy, occasional mouthfuls were blessed with fattiness or rivulets of connective tissue. A cinnamon-like warmth to the sauce meshed perfectly with jollof.
Patties and other dishes at Jerk Yard
The patties suffered from similar levels of inconsistency as the jerk chicken, with the pastry ranging from smooth, flaky and hearty to being so soft as to be bordering on mushy. The beef and cheese filling had a suitably milky, viscous touch to its smooth, modestly spiced and lightly meaty filling. The lamb variant, on the other hand, was unrecognisably mushy and bland.
When saltfish was combined with potatoes into wee savoury cakes, the effect was that of lightly salty and fishy hash browns. Crisp then fluffy, these were immensely enjoyable.
Saltfish combined with flour made for gently chewy, puffy and soft fritters. This multifaceted texture – dotted with bits of dense, flaky sweet fish – reminded me a bit of oden, but condensed into a couple of mouthfuls. They were even more delectable when taken with the lightly spiced tang of the jerk-ish sauce. All of this makes it even more of a shame that Jerk Yard has taken these saltfish cakes off its menu.
Plump, springy, nutty and hearty beancakes were fine conveyors for the spicy heat of the jerk seasoning and sauce.
The Verdict
Jerk Yard is clearly capable of knocking out some absolutely belting dishes, but this is undermined by the kitchen’s consistency – or lack of it. Their odd approach to vegan/vegetarian dishes, opting for the likes of soya strips rather than say callaloo or ackee, has seemingly been shaped by the need to have everything stuffable in a bun or tortilla. And also I suspect, by their small premises, forcing them to choose what can be prepared easily enough alongside their meat dishes.
The overall effect then is less an expertly remastered classic album, and more of a Now-style greatest hits compilation with some decidedly rough, unharmonious cut-offs in the recording. Jerk Yard is still a valuable resource for Deptford locals, but it’s not quite the standard-setter it could be.
What to order: Ox tail; curry goat
What to skip: Jerk soya
Name: Jerk Yard
Branch tried: Arch 10, 4 Market Yard, Deptford, London SE8 4BX
Phone: 0203 971 0859
Web: https://jerkyard.uk
Opening Hours: Monday-Saturday 11.00-21.00; Sunday 11.00-19.00.
Reservations? not taken.
Average cost for one person: £9-£18 approx.
Rating: ★★★★☆