There’s something sacred about the sound of a pot bubbling on the stove. Ask anyone who grew up around real home cooking, and they'll tell you — it's not just about food. It’s about moments. Laughter shared while peeling yams, grandma humming while turning the ogbono, the aroma of pepper soup sneaking through every corner of the house. Homemade meals hold memories. I remember the days growing up. My mum would start cooking early — the kind of early where dew was still clinging to the grass. You’d wake up to the sharp scent of blended ata rodo and tomatoes already frying in hot oil. You knew it was going to be a good day, because rice and stew were...
Let me tell you a quick story. A few months ago, I visited an old friend. We were laughing, catching up, and doing what Nigerians do best—eating. She served me a plate of steaming jollof rice (my weakness), fried chicken, and a colorful side of coleslaw. It was delicious, no lie. But halfway through, I noticed something strange. My tongue felt funny. My stomach started to rumble. And by the next day, I was sipping herbal tea, swearing off “outside food” forever.Turns out, the flavor-packed seasoning she used was a cocktail of unpronounceables—chemical-laced, sodium-heavy, fake spice imposters. Here’s the hard truth: some of the foods we’re eating, even the ones we love, are slowly doing damage. What’s Hiding in Your...
It all started one sunny Saturday afternoon at Auntie Bisi’s kitchen. She was hosting a mini get-together, and as usual, the star of the table was a steaming pot of jollof rice. The aroma wafted through the house like a warm embrace. But as she scooped a spoonful into my plate, Eunice blurted out, “Auntie, did you use the Flourish Jollof Mix or just the Seasoning?” She chuckled and said, “Ah, my dear… people confuse the two all the time.” And that’s how this post was born because trust us, you don’t want to mix them up if you're serious about nailing your jollof game. So, What’s the Difference? Let’s break it down like a party jam at a Nigerian...
You’ve just finished making a big pot of stew, and your kitchen smells amazing. You call the kids, maybe even the neighbors, and you’re feeling like the kitchen queen (or king) of the day. But then… that first spoonful hits differently.Too tangy. Almost sour. Not what you were going for. All that fresh tomato, all that palm oil, all that meat—was it all a waste? Relax. We've been there. Many of us grew up watching our aunties and moms turn tangy disasters into finger-licking masterpieces. Let’s talk about how to do just that without losing the soul of your dish. So, Why Does Food Taste Tangy? In African cooking, especially Nigerian dishes—the tangy taste usually comes from acidic ingredients like...
There I was, proudly stirring my pot of ogbono soup, humming along to Asa’s “Bibanke,” when I decided to taste my masterpiece. And then bam! Salt. Too. Much. Salt. My heart sank. I had been looking forward to that soup all day. But instead of panicking, I remembered something my mum used to say: “A good cook isn’t one who never makes mistakes, but one who knows how to fix them.” So, apron still on and hope still alive, I got to work. If you’ve ever over-salted your pot of stew, egusi, ogbono, or even jollof, you’re not alone. Here are a few tried-and-true ways to rescue your favorite African and Nigerian dishes when the salt is threatening to take...
