“Romance is about the possibility of the thing” — Darius Lovehall, Love Jones
I remember the first time I saw Love Jones. I was freshly sixteen, just becoming aware of myself as a young woman, and even more so of myself as a romantic being. Nina Mosley was (an honestly is) the archetype of young creative I envisioned myself being once I ventured out into the world on my own. She was confident, stylish, sexy—everything I most definitely was not at sixteen. Darius represented everything moody teenage me could ever want in a man—artistic, charismatic, fine. Their pairing couldn’t have been more gratifying to witness in all its messy, magnetic glory.
Love Jones was the pinnacle of romance to me. Chicago (and all the rainy fog) provided a gritty and tactile backdrop for this movie in a way that inspired a deeeeeepppp desire for a leather coat or two. Nights spent in smoky poetry clubs, kickbacks with intellectual black twenty somethings on the grind, and passionate feel-it-in-your-bones love just felt like every bit of goodness I wanted to wrap up in the very moment I got the chance. I’ve returned to this movie several times over the years as I’ve matured as a woman, creative, lover, and aspiring chef. As a creative, the cinematography and pacing of the film inspires me to romanticize the mundane and it has directly shaped the way I approach photography in all forms. Jazz poured from every crevice of this movie and now does so in my daily life. Love Jones began my love affair with Myles Davis and John Coltrane, and I’ve been hooked on the genre since. My burgeoning obsession with spoken word only multiplied, and I admit I have almost fell victim to many a “real eyes realize real lies” dude over the years as an unfortunate side effect…thank you Mr. Lovehall. This film was complex in its simplicity. It was and is everything to me.


One truism in life, my friend…when that jones come down, it be a mothaf**ka”—Savon Garrison, Love Jones
Darius and Nina provide a tangible example of young folks fumbling their way through love in a way that is both wholly foreign to me and as familiar as the mole beneath my left eye. Their pairing is sweet and spicy. It clings to the roof of your mouth. It’s sticky and…satisfying. Their chemistry is contagious, and the writer in me will shamelessly admit that the free flowing wit between them is utterly stimulating. From the moment the credits rolled, I began loudly professing: if he ain’t like Darius Lovehall, I don’t want him. A few years later, I’d meet my first love. To me, he was definitely a Darius. Cocky, creative, a little stubborn, and moving way too fast. The boyish charm and my naïveté had me sneaking out the house to the LIBRARY of all places following the jones (coincidentally his surname). And it was, in fact, a mothaf**ka. My inner Nina met him at every turn. I tested the limits, while simultaneously wondering if he would follow me out into the rain. Spoiler alert: he wouldn't.



Many a criticism can be leveraged bout the dynamics of Darius and Nina’s relationship, or really situationship if we’re keeping it a stack, but it gave a little late bloomer like myself a jumping off point for how to approach romantic connections. It taught me some of what I want, some of what I don’t want, and a helluva lot of what I think I want and shouldn’t. Love Jones is the lens through which I have channeled my desire. It made me foolhardy and wanton in my approach to love and intimacy. Savon and Troy provide a wonderful contrast to Darius and Nina in that they emphasize the fact that love—like many things in life—is what you make it. Falling in love is easy, staying in love…let’s just say if you figure that part out, please let me buy a clue. While I am still intrigued with the prospect of being driven to distraction by desire for someone, I am now more aware of the periphery of what accompanies that which I can honestly say we get a taste of in Nina and Darius’s…shit.
Speaking of taste, I’m sure by now you’re wondering what the hell any of this has to do with food. Everything actually. Food is my medium of choice, and for Black History Month and Valentine’s Day, I figured what better way to communicate everything my favorite black love films inspire in me than through recipes? For Nina and Darius, I chose Sticky Asian Ribs. Let me break it down for you. (Is that alriiiiigggghhhtttt?)
Let me break it down, so it can forever and consistently be BROKE.”—Savon Garrison, Love Jones
The ginger in this recipe is sharp. It’s the punch of the saxophone punctuating Darius’s impromptu “blues for Nina.” The spicy burn of fresh ginger perfectly encompasses the whole body shock to the system you feel when you first lock eyes with the one. Brown sugar is the textures throughout this film. It's the sweetness of their first kiss on Nina’s front steps. It's slow whining at The Wild Hare. It’s light bouncing off leather and the ubiquitous rain dripping from Nina’s hair in the last scene. Honey is the first time they make love. It’s the sickening sweetness of new love, both delusion and solution. Cinnamon and clove provide the blues and funk…if you know, you most definitely know. Introduce heat however you see fit. For Darius, it was playing In a Sentimental Mood during that sexually frustrating sleepover. For me, it was crushed red pepper and cayenne. First the ribs are marinated, much like the stage had to be set for their pairing through previous failed relationships (thank you Marvin and Felicia). Next, they kiss the dutch oven hot and heavy like that first date. Once seared, they’re cooled down and slow-cooked in a deep broth much like all their shit came crashing down around them. Finally, as the essence is cooked off, more of the initial sauce is added back, coating them in all the sticky, sweet, spicy goodness that made all of this worth while in the first place. Complex simplicity—Nina Mosley and Darius Lovehall.
Let me tell you somethin’. This here, right now, at this very moment is all that matters to me. I love you. That’s urgent like a motherf**ker.”—Darius Lovehall, Love Jones
Sticky Asian Ribs
1 rack of ribs
1/4 cup soy sauce
1/4 cup hoisin sauce
1/4 cup oyster sauce
1/4 cup honey
1/4 cup brown sugar
1/4 cup rice wine vinegar
3 tbsp vegetable oil
2 tbsp grated fresh ginger
2 minced garlic cloves
2 sprigs scallions
*season to taste with Chinese five spice, salt, white pepper, garlic powder, onion powder, red pepper flakes, smoked paprika, and cayenne pepper ( I was unable to get my hands on Chinese five spice, so I used a bay leaf, stick of cinnamon, and 3 cloves in my marinade)
Clean and remove membrane from ribs. If desired, slice ribs into individuals.
Combine soy sauce, hoisin sauce, oyster sauce, honey, brown sugar, rice wine vinegar, vegetable oil, ginger, garlic, and seasonings.
Reserve 1 cup of mixture to act as a glaze, and marinate the ribs in the rest for a few hours to overnight.
Heat up a small amount of oil in a dutch oven and sear ribs on each side. Cover in broth or water and simmer on medium high heat partially covered for 45 mins or until ribs are tender.
Uncover, add in reserved sauce, and increase heat to high to thicken into a glaze.
Serve with jasmine rice and vegetable of your choice, garnish with scallions.
Thank you for reading the first installation of Noir & Nosh. I will explore more films in this series, and if you want to read more, please subscribe. Share this with someone who loves Love Jones as much as you!
I just LOVE how you connected the two together.