Scarlet Ibis is a well-meaning little place struggling through the most unfortunate of circumstances. It is separated from traffic along Midway by street-side façades and a nondescript asphalt lot, buried under insurance offices and other crowd-deflecting small businesses. And here they hope to evoke something of the Caribbean.

That they’ve managed to eke out something of a reputation amongst those “in the know” is a tribute to the restaurant’s understaffed kitchen. “Doubles,” the enigmatic term applied to Trinidad’s popular chickpea sandwiches, are soft, earthy, and properly gritty, backed by mellowed heat. Jerk chicken relies on thyme for character, again supported by just enough chile to leave an impression. Other favorites include phoulorie, rotis, oxtail stew, and fried plantains.

You won’t find the sweet cocktails of thatched-roof beach-bar fame. Their sorrel—a thick tea steeped in cinnamon and other spices until an odd baked apple flavor emerges—works in their stead (or at least in place of dessert). The little kitchen serves surprisingly evokative dishes, but it fails to soften the depressing landscape. Even if Scarlet Ibis adds a little character—maybe some bright color and a sunny patio (and plenty of rum), it’s still the backend of Addison outside. Too bad.