The Guardian du 20 d’Avri 2011 êfliandre:

The local accent is remarkable, a drawled, glottal muddle of Sith Ifrickan and jarring francophone: they plont potatoes and visit Fronce. Only a few hundred Jerseymen speak the native Jèrriais today, but the islanders clung to it with stubborn insularity for the best part of a millennium…

The other was the closest thing I found to a local speciality, a jar of something called black butter, a tarry, spiced apple jam. I picked it up at the airport from a shop selling tourist tat, which means that the best Jersey food I tried was in my own kitchen, smeared on English toast.