The sun sat low in the sky, and the sea breeze whistled through the windows. Everybody knew that in a mere two hours, the sunset would paint everything within its reach with that warm orange glow.

Mum had already cleared away the heavy midday pots of cou-cou and saltfish, along with the bowls of black pudding and souse. Now a brand-new aroma had taken over the house as Mum and her friends started on the evening delights. Fish cakes and chicken gizzards were frying on the stove, while coconut sweet bread and pone baked in the oven. Those smells announced to everyone that Saturday evening in the village had begun.

The aroma of Bajan dishes is hypnotizing, and no matter where you go, in Barbados or in the diaspora, these traditional treats always seem to find their way onto our Saturday menu. Somebody is either cooking those Saturday favorites or selling them to people like me who haven’t quite embraced the art of cooking. I can be in Brooklyn, Toronto, London, Miami—you name it—and that Saturday food craving still follows a Bajan anywhere in the world.

One weekend I might be in a cold New York kitchen, another weekend in a Toronto apartment, but those familiar smells don’t change. The only real debate is whose food tastes better—and Bajans do not take that kind of debate lightly.

A Bajan will happily drive two hours across states just to try a new spot, sit back, take one serious bite, and deliver the final verdict on whether it tastes anything like the village back home. And we will not stop until we sample every contender and crown the best Bajan restaurant. That was tradition then, and it is tradition now.

As the modern world speeds up, some traditional values are quietly fading away. “Blink Once, Blink Twice, Silence” pays tribute to the culture and spirit of village life in Barbados, seen through the eyes of baby boomers.