Why "jackass"? The label of this two-pack from Jamaican Pride (3 oz., $1.50) — bought at a "West Indian, American, French grocery" that seems to be Korean-run — is unilluminating, except for the absence of "corn." The short list of ingredients comprises only "flour, sugar, coconut, ginger, spices."
Further reading offers two etymologies. Like the jackass, said an informant for Frederic G. Cassidy's 1961 study Jamaica Talk, this "famous hard biscuit" is "faithful, long-serving and tough." Another informant, for Cassidy's later Dictionary of Jamaican English, co-edited with R.B. Le Page, added that it is "very thin and hard and crisp and when being eaten sounds like the eating of corn by a donkey."
Upshot: By one account, the jackass is the biscuit; by the other, the jackass is you.
Chung's Market 1228 Fulton St. (Bedford-Nostrand Aves.), Bedford-Stuyvesant, Brooklyn 718-636-6194
There's kurma, and there's kurma. To find the freshly made "soft" style of this Trinidadian confection, often heavy with condensed milk, a dedicated sweets shop would be your best bet. (Perhaps EIT readers can also suggest South Asian analogues.) M&M&M brand kurma (2.5 oz. bag, $1.25) represent the "hard" style; they're made from dough that has been spiced (most notably with ginger, in this case) fried (or twice-fried, some recipes insist), and glazed. Yes, these crunchy strips are commercially bagged, but they also strike a great balance between spicy and sweet. And, in snack foods, portability is a great virtue.
Continuing confirmation that meat is chic: Like scores of restaurants that have appropriated the premises and sometimes the fittings of bygone nonfood businesses, this clothing shop and event space has retained the illuminated exterior sign of the old L&G butcher. The meat hooks and the scale might well be original equipment, too, but I imagine that the stylized goat's head mannikin was purpose-made for the current shop.
This egg 'n' pesto sandwich (as served, $7) also boasts chunks of bacon, adds an optional smear of cheese, and swaddles the lot in a cushy housemade flatbread. The pesto, made not from pine nuts but from kale and, occasionally, dandelion greens, gets second billing for good reason: It's one potent pesto, perhaps best paired with strong coffee.
Count on taking your order to go, since Scratchbread offers no indoor seats, just a narrow ledge on one outside wall.
In the second photo, it's at bottom right, beside the takeout window.