Just before Jill Scott dropped her new Light of the Sun album, she sat for an interview The Guardian UK newspaper where she reveals intimate details of her life, including how she knew her marriage to Lyzel was over:
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.
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.
My favorite food is Senegalese, which I discovered a few years ago in Paris. We went to a fabulous tiny restaurant called Au Village and I ate yassa poulet (a spicy lemon dish of chicken and caramelised onions served over rice) and blood sausage. I love foods that start in my cheeks and then vibrate up.
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.
