Every day Hilda Okonmah brings lunch to the staff of a West African grocery store in Dublin's city centre. It might be a fiery egusi soup, thick with chunks of beef and fish and laced with chilli pepper and crushed melon seeds, or perhaps a gentler chicken stew. It might include piping hot gari, the ubiquitous mashed-potato-like "dunking bread" made from ground cassava, the tropical root from which tapioca is produced. But it always reflects Okonmah's combined homesickness for Nigeria and pride in its expansive culinary heritage where "when we cook for one, we cook for all".
No stranger to cooking for a crowd, the tall, statuesque Okonmah was formerly a chef in Lagos and she hopes to eventually open a restaurant in Dublin. Because there is little written about West African cookery, and its traditions are mostly handed down orally from generation to generation, Okonmah thoughtfully provided a crash course on West African ingredients and techniques for me.
Starting at the grocer's she moved from bags of dried white and brown beans to baskets of gnarled cassava, yam and taro roots, to hairy coconuts, black-spotted plantains, papery white garlic bulbs, dried prawn heads and deep green limes. At home in her kitchen, she demonstrated some typical Nigerian dishes: a super-easy breakfast omelette enlivened with minced chilli pepper, chopped tomatoes, curry powder and thyme, and sweet, velvety-textured fried plantains. Here, large tropical cooking-bananas are simply peeled, sliced, lightly salted and fried in vegetable oil until golden brown on both sides. Then there is the less-familiar fare. While styles vary regionally, West African cuisine is built on starchy tuberous vegetables such as yams, cassava and taro (sometimes called coco-yam), which are variously boiled, fried or mashed, or dried and powdered and combined with water to form a soft, bland paste. Traditionally moulded into a pillow shape and pinched off with the fingers in individual portions, these pastes are dipped into spicy soups or stews. (It's fine to eat the pastes with a fork and knife.)
The soups can be as chunky and blistering as the gari and the yam-based fufu pastes are smooth and bland.
Okonmah's ogbono soup, for example, combines the heat of chilli peppers with chunks of protein-rich beef and reconstituted dried fish, unctuous red palm oil, slippery okra and nutty-tasting ogbono, the crushed seeds of a mango-like fruit. Egusi - melon seed - soup starts with the same stock as ogbono, but substitutes spinach for the okra, adds fresh, in addition to dried, fish, and finishes with a cream-coloured, sesame-like puree of melon seeds. There are no equivalents in Western cooking. Newcomers to West African food might wish to approach it by substituting vegetable oil for the heavy-textured palm oil in recipes. Then they can work slowly into the dishes, gradually increasing the heat quotient. Asked whether she had made any adjustments to her authentic Nigerian recipes to suit Western palates, Okonmah replies: "Yes. I normally use three or four whole chillis in a recipe instead of the quarter-teaspoon I've used today. They're great for a cold." No one knows the exact size of the West African population in Ireland, but government figures estimate the figure to be in the thousands, with a recent rise in asylum-seekers and in resident aliens with work-permits. The immigrant experience is difficult anywhere, but access to native foodstuffs eases the transition. To that end, roughly eight West African grocery stores, stocking provisions imported either via England or directly to Ireland, and at least one restaurant have opened in Dublin in the past three years.
These provide both cultural and social support for African nationals - especially those living outside Dublin, where obtaining native foodstuffs is nigh impossible - as well as a warm welcome for non-Africans seeking information about traditional foodways. At Africana restaurant at 102 Parnell Street, Mary Akin emerges from the open kitchen at the back of her homely, 30-seat eatery, to chat with regular customers and to advise newcomers on menu choices. "How about beef stew with yam porridge and an order of fried rice?" she advises two Irish women contemplating lunch. She calms their fears about a vegetable soup with pounded yam as being "bad for your tummy".
Indeed, the fiery beef stew, served on a bed of bland, tomato-scented mashed yam, is fortifying and tasty, but African diners stare sympathetically as the women grasp frantically for glasses of cold water. The fried rice is a much milder, turmeric-scented dish, accented with fresh herbs, diced onion, carrots, tomatoes and peas, and garnished with fried plantains. When available, other menu items include isiewu, goat's head stew served in a traditional wooden bowl; spicy peanut soup with boiled rice and beef, chicken or fish; asaro, a mash of yams, prawns and vegetables; couscous and vegetables; stewed chicken; and jollof rice, flavoured with tomato paste, palm oil, meats, vegetables, thyme, nutmeg and garlic. Beverages include Maltina, a non-alcoholic brew made from malted sorghum, conventional minerals, or wine. Desserts are not traditional in West African cookery. Mary and her husband, Stephen Akin strive for culinary harmony between West Africans and Europeans.
"Some Irish people come here, really anxious to eat hot food," says Stephen. "We also serve a lot of French and Spanish people, and we just had a party of Asian airline personnel." Acknowledging racism and ignorance in some quarters of Irish society, he nonetheless believes most Irish people are tolerant and that the country is headed for more acceptance of multiculturalism. There is some visible cross-over between African and Irish food sensibilities. A recent lunchtime crowd at the Tropical grocery store on Parnell Street comprised West Africans buying staples along with Irish women examining the shop's display of hairpieces. Both Africans and non-Africans were queuing up for takeaway, Nigerian-style baked red snapper and turkey legs, smothered with tomatoes and onions.
"We eat both Irish and African food," says shopper Patricia Dwyer, clutching a huge, brown yam under one arm. A Ghanaian married to an Irishman, she says her children are especially fond of fried plantains and yam chips. Indeed, the in-store juxtaposition of Alafia Bitters, a Ghanaian health tonic, with jars of Nescafe and knobbly ginger roots portends an expanded culinary diversity here. "Our door is open," says manager Paul Lubienga. "We taste Irish food. Why shouldn't the Irish taste African food?"
Hilda Okonmah's Egusi Soup with Gari
Serves four
450g (1lb) beef, cubed 125g (5oz) dried catfish or stockfish, washed well and soaked in warm water to cover for 10 minutes 1 teaspoon salt 1/4 teaspoon minced red chilli 3 small Maggi or chicken stock cubes 75g (3oz) ground egusi powder 5 tablespoons palm oil or vegetable oil 360 ml (12 fl oz) water 1 teaspoon ground dried crayfish 150g (6oz) spinach, washed and sliced into thin ribbons 450g (1lb) fresh catfish or other whole white fish, head discarded, gutted and cut into thirds For the Gari 600 ml (20 fl oz) boiling water Gari (cassava powder) as needed
For the soup: place the beef in a heavy saucepan with enough water to cover. Cook over high heat for 15 minutes. Add the dried catfish, salt, chilli and stock cubes. Simmer for an additional 10 minutes. Reserve. Meanwhile, in a small bowl combine the egusi powder with a little water to make a paste. In a stockpot, heat the palm oil until it is nearly smoking. Add the egusi paste. Stir very well. Add the reserved meaty broth, the additional water, ground dried crayfish, spinach and fresh catfish. Cover and cook over moderate heat for 10 minutes.
While the soup cooks, prepare gari: place the boiling water in a medium bowl. Stir in enough gari powder to make a mixture the consistency of mashed potato. Serve very hot, eaten either with the hands or with a fork and knife, as an accompaniment to soup.
Ingredients are available at: Tropical Shop, 146 Parnell Street, Dublin 1; Choice's Afro World Boutique, 31 Bolton Street, Dublin 1; Tropical Stop Centre, 40 Camden Street, Dublin 8