The road to Saminaka is paved with memories None of which are mine Memories borrowed from friends. Of family holidays Friends like Femi, @kinffeosi, @asamsu, @micaleel and @alkayy Of Junction towns where women fry chicken Tales of cross-country journeys Of petticoat yam and crumbled yaji-spiced chicken skin Of Roadkill Of native chicken, cheap as chips...
Embrace the ittars, the exotic scents of the Levant In tendrils of steam from the hammams of Turkey Rosewater. Orange Blossom. Jasmine Fragrances captured and essences preserved by ancient methods that go back to the Renaissance Experience the abundance of fragrances Get carried away with the heady notes and exotic dances of the Levant Captured...
Egusi soup, in which I channel my inner ‘Edo‘ girl. My ‘Igarra‘ heritage. For this is the soup by which we are woken up on many a morning, ladled into yellow enamel bowls, motiffed with green leaves and rimmed in red. Covers clanging, hiding the pungent, fried scents of une, what we call locust beans and...
A night-time conversation with D, my 6-year old has brought me here, to this point where I am writing an open letter to the world. To those who think Nigerian cuisine is no more than pepper. And I am not really on the offensive. Or defensive. I’m just in plain agreement as to how we...
Failure doesn’t faze me. Its nothing new. Jams that won’t set are ….mere vestiges of the past. I forge on….determined. This Zobo Jelly is an example in point. I went back to the drawing board and ended up with something that was and is worthy of any table.
I have my own Mallam. My supplier of the Finest suya spice blend. I’ve know Mamanga for over a year since my friend B and I first ordered a whole Suya-Roasted ram from him. Yes, a whole ram for our personal consumption. Ok…well for us and our families….a grand total of 9 people.
I’ve got a thing for Yellow. And Blue. Cobalt. And Sky. I love Blue.
This post is as much about showing off my bargain ‘Eva Solo’ Danish Design tumblers…. ….as it is about exploring new flavours with sugar cane juice.
So the Harmattan winds should be here. My mornings should be chilly, foggy and with dust to boot. Its the season when nights should be cool and lips parched. The season of northern trade winds blowing from the Sahara. But ’tis only some of that here. Where I am at the moment. Some tropical thunderstorms and warmish...