Ja' Grill

1008 West Armitage Ave
Chicago, IL 60686
(773) 929-5375

Ja Grill, Jamaican me crazy, mon! There were some really really great things but there were some things that I just can't abide at a Jamaican spot. Ergo...

Yay: I'd been wanting to come here for a really long time. When I found out that some of my friends were coming here for a birthday party for someone I didn't know, you better believe I got myself invited. I liked the fact that the restaurant is so accessible by public transportation. It's steps off of the Armitage Brown line. Thumbs up. I walked in and was psyched by the amount of extraordinarily attractive people. Jerome, hold up my mirror. Oh, I guess those extraordinarily attractive people were my friends. Thumbs up to us. And, make it a lot of thumbs because we packed that place.

To their credit, the wait staff was on point. They kept us sauced, fed and happy. And you'll be happy with whatever crosses your lips. The drAnks: yes, they're pricey...but THEY'RE AWESOME!! They're full of rum and fruit and sugary goodness and are the perfect antidote to gray Chicago winters. After a couple of these drinks, I was in the Caribbean. After five more, I was passed out. But, that's all good. Before I roofied myself, I ate. A lot. Curry Chicken patties. Yup. Chicken WAngs. Mmm hmmm. Big plate of Curry Goat, plantains, cabbage and carrots? Jump back! I tore my plate up. And Mike's plate of Jerk Chicken. And Janet's plate of Curry Chicken. And Orville's plate of Jerk Catfish. And I would have torn everyone else's plates up if I could have reached them. Whatever the chef is doing in back, he (or she) is doing it right. Pass the [redacted] on the left hand side and keep it moving. Belly full and mind swimming, I was all set to keep the party going in the downstairs club. Which leads to...

Boo: We were the first folks downstairs. Normally, that might be a problem, but since we were an army of brown folks, this should be a party. We already had the hotties. All we needed now were drAnks and music. And, we kept needing them. Since we took such good care of our server upstairs, he came downstairs to let the bartender know that we were to be served drink specials. Cool. I thought these specials extended to a variety of beverages. They did not (or, did they?). Whatever was discussed, we wound up getting $5 Montego-tinis. What's a Montego-tini? It's bright pink and nasty. It may or may not still have ice cubes served in the martini glass. It may or may not have a garnish. It will be hard to swallow. After hours of drinking fruity punch and banana surprises (free yo' mind and clean yo' thoughts!), these drinks were a major let down. Also on the 'special' discount menu: Rolling Rock and Drain-O-tinis. If this is what comes from taking care of your waiter, what happens when you stiff him?

Put out (but still drinking my Montego-tini - and making it work!), I sat down on the couch, eager to soon jump up and start shaking my groove thing to some dancehall. I was all set to dance battle Carlos, shame him, and get all the glory for having all the moves. I waited. Sipped Montego-tini. Gagged. Waited some more. The music came on and...what?? Sade?! And not baby-making Sade. This was d@mn-I-had-a-long-azz-week-and-I-need-to-listen-to-soothing-smooth-jazz Sade. I KNOW you di'in't, Mista DJ! This is a Jamaican spot! I want dancehall. I want Patra. I want Mistuh Ugly Man (Shabba!). I want to hear "Groove Me." I want to hear "Action." I want to shake my boo-tay. I want to swirl my braids. This Quiet Storm isht was _not_ the business. After four disappointing songs in a row, I laid down on the couch to get some sleep. After three more, I left. Alone. It was a disappointing end to the evening in multiple ways.