Jill Scott recently had a chat with a British publication about how certain food experiences have affected her life.
And in it, she reveals how she figured it was time to go ahead and let Lyzell kick rocks in E flat.
One of the reasons my ex-husband and I broke up is that he stopped eating my food. He was pissed [off] for other reasons, but the best way to show me was by leaving what I’d made for him uneaten for days on the kitchen counter. It was a smack in the face.
Damn Lyzell! He turned out to be such a disappointment, huh?
Here are a few other tidbits Jill Scott shared about herself and food.
I didn’t leave home until 27. I was an only child raised in Philadelphia by my mother and grandmother. My grandmother controlled the stove. She made a lot of potato meals – mashed potato, potato souffle, potato pancakes. When we didn’t have electricity we ate romantically, by candlelight.
I was treated as a princess, with room service. Sometimes I’d wake to a breakfast in bed of pork, scrambled eggs, grits and biscuits. We didn’t have much, and they found a way to treat me as special as possible.
I was once making a burger for myself at my boyfriend’s house and a lyric started pouring out and I had to catch it, so I ran to another room to write it down, but then the kitchen caught fire. His cabinets were charred, and he was furious. But it was worth it for a song.
People think that lemon is good for the voice, but it dries it out. Luther Vandross gave me a lot of advice. Cheeses are not our friend. Eat as much green vegetable as possible. I have hot tea on stage, scented with grand marnier – which isn’t good for the voice but opens my head.
When I got my success I became decadent for a while. This was 2003 to 2008. I fell for tiramisu really hard. I’ve become more moderate since, because African-Americans are prone to diabetes. A nutritionist has told me to have very little butter and very little spices, but I can’t live like that.
I panicked when my son, Jett, stopped eating baby food. He’s only two but his food vocabulary is fantastic. He likes my baked tilapia and string beans with chopped garlic. But he really likes pizza. Sometimes every inanimate object to him is pizza.
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