How A Nigerian Meal Started My Quest To Africa

Part 1.

This November, Lord willing, I’ll be turning half a century, the Big 50. And when my awesome wife asked me how I want to celebrate that milestone in my life, I told her I would like nothing more than to enjoy a Nigerian meal with family and close friends, barring Covid. And I know just the restaurant, twenty minutes from where I live. It’s where I had my first introduction to African food. And that one meal has changed my life, becoming one of the catalysts for my journey to discover ingredients that make up the recipe of who I am. That first Nigerian meal for me is simply one of the reasons why I have to go to the Continent of Africa. Allow me to explain.

I knew that the majority of my DNA is African DNA. Unfortunately, however, although I knew Africa was a continent, I had too often perceived it as a country. So it came as somewhat of a surprise to me when my DNA showed several regions and ethnicity from Africa. But understanding how the transatlantic slave trade and chattel slavery worked easily explained the variety of African ethnicity that exist in African Americans and in me particularly. Having tested with several DNA companies I can now tell you that part of my DNA is Nigerian. And since Nigeria was the country I was most familiar with in Africa, and having a plethora of Nigerian friends, I wanted my introduction to traditional African Food to be Nigerian.

It was in December of 2019, I had just started working for Ancestry.com as a Curator in the field, and I had decided to write a piece chronicling the foodways of Nigerians living in the U.S. My endeavor was to discover if their ethnic food connects them as expatriates to their history, and their homeland. I knew I needed to make that invaluable human-to-human contact, to hear and not just read their stories. I needed to communicate with actual living, breathing Nigerian expats who were now residing in my birth country. And so that is what I set out to do.

I mapped out a practicable project. I made the connections I needed to make. I decided what I wanted to know and how to ask those questions that would lead me there, without limiting myself to those very inquiries. Then I considered the time and resources it would take to make it all happen. I was also hoping that as I began my journey, I would discover along the way some of my ingredients – that is – what it means to be an African American with Nigerian ancestral roots.

I started the journey wanting to discover if my Nigerian ancestors, brought to the Western Hemisphere during the transatlantic slave trade, were able to hold on to anything from the motherland by maintaining and preserving their foodways. Did they pass down elements, ingredients, and recipes that had made their way onto the tables of my family gatherings today? And did they do this as means of retaining a connection to their motherland? Being forbidden to practice their culture or speak their language, I learned that they did find ways to pass something down to their children, to me, through their foodways. So, perhaps, what I was looking for was right in front of me and all I had to do was just taste and see. Maybe I needed to actually leave my perceived comfort zone and expand my horizons. So, with the excitement of an explorer, and my messenger bag packed with pen and pencil, a voice recorder, notepad, and a list of questions, I was ready to go. I was prepared to discover. My first stop was to visit with a Nigerian family at their restaurant because what better way is there to learn about other people than by sharing a meal with them. To my surprise, I received much more than just an excellent Nigerian meal.

Olaide’s Kitchen African Restaurant in Parlin, New Jersey was recommended to me by a very dear and close Nigerian friend named Tobi and it was pretty local. When I arrived I was warmly greeted by Chef Olaide’s daughter, Abigail. Both Abigail and Chef Olaide are natives of Lagos, Nigeria. The walls of the restaurant were decorated with Nigerian paintings, painted by contemporary Nigerian artists. Nigerian music played softly in the background, adding to the ambiance. I immediately felt comfortable, relaxed, and open to learning something new. After introducing myself and exchanging pleasantries with Abigail, she allowed me to choose where I wanted to sit. I found a table that would allow me to take in the entire restaurants’ décor. I settled in and anticipated having a great experience.

It wasn’t long before Chef Olaide came out to greet me. I asked her and Abigail what I should order as I studied the menu. I was hoping to discover something about this food that was foundational to the food my grandparents and great-grandparents had made with love. So we agreed that as each dish was brought to my table, they’d give me a few minutes to eat. Then they’d sit down with me and discuss each plate of food, from its ingredients and origin to its cultural relevance. Based on their recommendation, I settled on Suya as my first dish. The chef and her daughter informed me that in Nigeria, Suya is a street food. You can find it being sold by vendors and hawkers on the side of roads or at the markets. Suya is thinly sliced beef spiced and marinated in suya pepper which consists of peanuts, ginger, cayenne pepper, and others seasonings. Threaded in skewers, the thinly slices of steak cuts are then grilled.

From Northern Nigeria, where Suya originated, men who are experts in making suya are called mai suyas. Suya can also be made with chicken, ram or lamb meat instead of beef. As a daring foodie, the idea of ram meat intrigued me. So I made a note to myself that I would have to try it one day, because Olaide’s Kitchen African Restaurant did not sell it. As the aroma of spices from the Suya wafted its way to my sense of smell before it was brought to my table, Suya has also wafted its way throughout the country of Nigeria. Culturally, in Nigeria Suya is seen as a food that brings together the people of Nigeria. It is Nigeria’s national dish.

Next I ordered a side of Nigerian jollof rice, rice cooked in a zesty tomato sauce with spices and herbs. Jollof rice is believed to have originated in the Senegambia region in West Africa. Jollof, or Wollof, is the language of the region, as well as the native tongue of the Wollof people of the Wollof Empire. The Senegalese and Gambian people refer to the dish as ceebu jën or benachin (one-pot) because the entire meal is prepared in one pot. Eventually, surrounding ethnic groups started making their own version of Jollof rice—each group claiming to make it better than the others. My hosts went on to informed me, however, that Nigerian Jollof rice is the best. The dish they had set before me was actually Nigerian party jollof rice. Party jollof, they went on to tell me, is a much tastier version with a smoky flavor. You can’t go to a wedding, funeral, birthday party, or any other celebration without having party jollof rice. The dish is intimately connected with Nigerian culture, although it is cooked in various ways in West Africa, for Nigerians it is the crème de la crème of rice dishes.

The success to jollof rice is that it has to be burnt…because the smoky savory deliciousness I tasted was a direct result of that burning process. This information was shared by Abigail. There are certain ingredients to jollof rice that are essential. The color of jollof rice is due to Tatashe, a Red Bell Pepper. And depending on how much of tatashe is used will ensure the level of sweetness you desire. But not all Nigerians use tatashe in the jollof rice. This is due to Nigeria’s rich ethnic diversity.

Onions are also essential. And red onions are preferable and also add to the sweetness of the rice. The last essential ingredient is tomato paste. Not only does this add the color that jollof rice is known for, but it also adds to the savory richness of the dish. Of course the rice, some chopped tomatoes, a handful of scotch bonnet peppers, garlic cloves, along with some bay leaves, curry, thyme, and salt, you now have most of the ingredients to jollof rice. Towards the end of the cooking process the rice is intentionally allowed to burn. And for Chef Olaide, it is this burning process that ensures it is party jollof rice.

There was something familiar to me about the party jollof rice. It reminded me of Jamaican rice and peas. A dish that actually has no peas in it, but red beans instead, which Jamaicans call peas. With a Jamaican father-in-law who has quite a large percentage of Nigeria ethnicity in his DNA and who also makes rice and peas several times a week, I wondered if those Jamaican rice and peas are a connection to Jollof rice of the African ancestors, and in particular, to the Nigerian ancestors.

Lastly, I ordered the Ayamase, a stew made with peppers and various meats and animal parts. Our discussion became more appetizing as the spicy ayamase dish was brought to the table. Chef Olaide’s recipe included beef, cow tripe, and cow skin. It can also be made with smoked fish, cow intestines (chitterlings), or goat meat. Though I’m not a fan of tripe or cow skin, I had no problem picking around them to scoop up the pepper gravy with the tender bits of beef. To be honest, I found myself even sucking on them like one would do with oxtails to ensure you got all of the savory goodness.

The Ayamase reminded me of my paternal grandmother’s beef and gravy dish that she would stew-down and then put over some white rice. All the ingredients were there. The only difference being the recipe, how those ingredients were prepared. Chef Olaide and Abigail informed me that as Nigerians living in the U.S., you never prepare an American meal without a Nigerian dish, so you never forget who you are. Bingo! I now understood that this same way of thinking could be the very reason why the food my family has prepared for generations with love has been passed down to my generation. This belief was no doubt the impetus for the why and the how it has been preserved.

Throughout the meal, I found myself returning to the Suya. Its irresistible peanut and spice flavor complemented the heat of the ayamase and the smokiness of the party jollof. Chef Olaide also brought me a Nigerian meat pie, which I imagined to be the origin of the Caribbean meat patties. Once again, for me this was indeed a tangible sign of the African foodways the Africans living in the diaspora intentionally preserved and maintained. Desserts aren’t prominent in Nigeria, so Chef Olaide went against her family’s suggestion that any restaurant in America has to have a dessert menu. Olaide’s Kitchen African Restaurant has no dessert menu. The closest I was able to get to satisfy my sweet tooth was with the puff-puff appetizer, a Nigerian doughnut that reminded me of a Jamaican fried dumpling, also called “Johnny cake.”

Before I left, we all embraced. Chef Olaide and Abigail taught me the traditional Nigerian greeting, which required me to bow to them in a specific way, while they curtsied to me. This formal greeting is still maintained today by Nigerians both at home and abroad. I left feeling like family. In some way, I even felt as if I had connected with my Nigerian ancestors. With over 250 ethnic groups making up Nigeria’s rich ethnic diversity, Hausa, Igbo and Yoruba being the three largest ethnic groups, Suya and Jollof rice unifies them beyond their tribal cultural boundaries. I could still smell the spicy aroma of the ayamase escaping from my doggie bag on the way to my car. And I remembered the various elements that made up this delicious stew. Nigeria is a stew of many different ethnicities with their own independent and separate history.  I believe each ethnic group as an ingredient preserved and passed down to us something from their culinary culture. And those ingredients have become various recipes throughout the African diaspora ensuring that we’d never forget our African ancestral roots. As I drove home, I began to appreciate how the diaspora and African American families in particular to this day (and perhaps without realizing it) continue a tradition in our kitchens and at our dinner tables that go beyond the history of our enslaved ancestors. It is our way, whether intentional or not, of passing down to the next generation a piece of our Nigerian and African heritage.

In Part 2 I will share how my attempt to recreate this Nigerian meal forever cemented in me a determination to go to Nigeria, and all of West Africa.

I would love to hear about the foods or experiences of your ancestral heritages that have caused you to want to visit your motherland. Thank you for reading. Please be sure to join the mailing list and share this blog with others. Also, be sure to visit my YouTube channel: My Ancestry Chronicles with Di Shawn J. Gandy and SUBSCRIBE, LIKE, and SHARE.