From Struggle to Sustenance: How Trinidadian Food Carried Us Through Hard Times

The Food That Fed Our Souls

There’s something about a pot of pelau bubbling on the stove that can silence the noise of the world. The smell of seasoned chicken caramelizing in brown sugar, the earthy flavor of pigeon peas, the comfort of rice stretched to feed everyone — these weren’t just meals, they were survival.

Growing up in Trinidad, food wasn’t about luxury. It was about stretching what little we had into something filling, nourishing, and joyful. Dhal and rice with a side of fry aloo. Bake and saltfish on a Sunday morning. Callaloo on a holiday, stirred with coconut milk until thick and rich. These dishes carried us through poverty, through struggle, and through the kind of days when love was the only seasoning left in the kitchen.

Heritage on a Plate

When I migrated to America, life changed — but the food remained the same. In a country where everything felt unfamiliar, the kitchen was the only place I could recreate home.

Cooking dhal in a small apartment in New Jersey wasn’t just about dinner — it was a reminder that no matter how far we travel, we carry our history with us. Every bite was a story, every plate was a prayer.

For many of us in the Trinidadian diaspora, these simple meals are still our go-to comfort foods. They sustain us the way they always did — feeding not just the belly but the spirit.

Spotlight Dish: Pelau

Pelau is more than rice and chicken — it’s survival in a pot. Invented to stretch food across many mouths, it is the kind of dish you make when money is low but community is strong. Sweet, savory, smoky, and satisfying — it reminds us that joy can be simple, and family can be fed with very little.

Quick Guide to Pelau

• Season chicken with green seasoning, garlic, and pepper.
• Burn brown sugar until dark and caramelized — a Trinidadian signature step.
• Add chicken to coat in that smoky caramel.
• Stir in pigeon peas, rice, coconut milk, and water.
• Cover and let it steam until the rice is fluffy and the flavors dance together.

One dish, many memories.

The Trinidadian-American Story

Today, when I share these recipes on my blog and in my cookbook A Seat at My Kitchen Table, I’m not just sharing food. I’m sharing survival, heritage, and healing. For me, Trinidadian cooking is a way to honor the past while teaching the next generation that resilience has flavor.

These meals remind us that we can turn scarcity into abundance, struggle into sweetness — and that is the same philosophy I now teach through my Pineapple Thoughts Method™, a framework designed to help women transform pain into purpose, stand in their power, and live with sweetness.

Closing Reflection

Food is more than ingredients. It is memory. It is culture. It is healing. It is proof that no matter what we endured, we had enough to survive, enough to smile, and enough to share.

🌺 Call to Action

If this story touched you, I invite you deeper into my world:

✨ Explore my books — Pineapple Thoughts (available now) and When the Spell Breaks (coming soon) — guides for healing and reclaiming your power.

✨ Sign up for my mailing list at www.makeibajames.com so you’ll be the first to know when When the Spell Breaksdrops.

✨ Be part of the first circle to access my Pineapple Thoughts Method™ classes launching soon — designed to help women shift mindset, stand rooted in identity, and rise into an abundant life.

Your journey toward healing and wholeness can start here. Let’s share food, stories, and strength — because just like pelau, life is sweeter when shared.