Taste of Naija

9JA

<3

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9JA <3 |

There is so much comfort in the flavors of childhood. When I think of my younger years, I can smell the melted butter and sweet Nigerian agege bread. I taste fresh pounded yam with spicy efo riro and sugary oatmeal with Peak milk. I think of begging my mom to buy me frozen yogurt from the market and see the quiet streets of my childhood neighborhood as my grandma and I walk home from school.

Locations have a scent, a flavor, and a feeling that can’t be replicated. I feel like I chase that feeling for myself, recreating memories and flavors and experiences. More often than not, the new memories have something new or different that doesn’t quite meet the brief. I chase change but still love the comfort of the familiar things that shaped me into who I am.

Taste of Naija was another attempt to bring familiar flavors to new people in my life. To share the scent, the flavor, and feelings of my childhood in Nigeria and culture of Yorubaland. Instead of recreating the experience of my childhood, I wanted this home cafe to be a celebration of recipes I’ve started collecting these past few years and a glimpse into things that shaped me.

This meant a lot of reflection of how the recipes shaped me, how to ensure everyone could get a taste of everything, and most importantly, the logistics of cooking for over 50 people. My mom and I painstakingly built a menu that breathed life into faded, blurry memories of my childhood. We polished each dish, finetuned each recipe, and built a plan for me to handle large scale cooking as a 1 person team.

I then shared Taste of Naija with people who’d witnessed some sort of growth or had grown with me throughout college. The amount of excitement and support was honestly shocking and a bit intimidating; there’s now people interested in the food, and by extension a huge part of me.

(I do also think offering a free meal to any college student is a sure fire way for people to come)

And so, with that interest and careful planning, I lugged 28 pounds of ingredients, snacks, and frozen base to cook.

I chopped the greens, roasted the peppers, fried the stew, made the doughs. I invited new friends, old friends, fun friends, quite friends. I simmered, I boiled, I baked, I steamed. I prepped, I shared, I sent my mom dozens of photos and videos.

The day of Taste of Naija arrived, bright with almost 2 feet of snow and several texts from my dad about staying safe and warm during the storm. Despite the heavy snow, I got several “See you soon!” and “Trust imma be there for the food” and even a “Excited to trek over”. Taste of Naija’s weather did not have the stifling heat of a Nigerian summer, but the warmth of my apartment from all stoves and oven working overtime more than made up for it.

People filed in and the food quickly dwindled and conversation spiked and my camera flashed all over the place (I needed pics for my mom). I loved how everyone was so open to get to know why I chose each dish, what it meant to me, and its flavor.

I would never claim that they all had an exact taste of what it was like to be a young Nigerian girl named Ebun growing up in Lagos. I would never even claim that they have a full understanding of the flavors and the nostalgia it holds for me. But I will say that I got to share a huge part of my life, and show my love and appreciation for my culture, my family, and childhood in Nigeria.

A huge thank you to every person who came, every person who wanted to but could not, and everyone who showed support in one way or another. I’m excited to see what scents, flavors, and feelings come from this time of my life. I take none of it for granted and have enjoyed every moment of getting to be surrounded by those who show up for me time and time again.

To many more memories, both new and familiar!