I started with two plantains (shocking!).

I washed them (my mom always washes plantains before peeling them).

I peeled them. Before you think I’m a poor plantain peeler (try saying that three times fast!), this batch of plantain that I bought had this weird “bark” (like tree bark) thing on it so it didn’t peel nicely. Has anyone ever had that happen to them before?

I added some olive oil to a bowl…

…added the sliced plantain to the oil, sprinkled them with a tiny bit of salt, and tossed them to coat the plantains with oil.

Then I broiled them.

I set the oven to 400°F at first and broiled them for 7 minutes. They didn’t really brown. I flipped them and increased the oven temperature to 450°F. After 7 minutes they were browning a bit more. I flipped them again and browned the first side for a couple minutes longer.

The final product:

My verdict? They’re pretty tasty, but they ended up a bit mushy. They also stuck to the foil so I think I have to spray the foil with that non-stick spray next time. I prefer the fried version though! I’m thinking as long as you don’t let the plantains get too mushy before frying them, the oil probably doesn’t get into the plantains so maybe the fried version isn’t too bad for you. That being said, I will try the broiled version again, with a few tweaks (firmer plantains, non-stick cooking spray, and 425°F-450°F to start).

into a blender, pureeing it smooth, pouring it into a pot, adding some olive oil, and simmering for some time can create a fairly tasty stew! You don’t even have to add any seasoning to it! If you feel like sneering at my lameness I can only conclude that you’re new to this blog. :)

My mom is temporarily unable to use her right hand so about two weeks ago she asked me to help her to prepare this basic stew (under her watchful eye) and I assisted with ogbono stew as well. I was a decent student so I was able to recreate the basic stew at home. Ogbono is still beyond me (not that I’ve tried it yet). However, if you’re in the mood for dodo* and white rice topped with a basic spicy stew, I’m your girl!

*For my non-Nigerian readers, dodo is fried plantains

I think the way they make jollof in Nigeria (and how most of the commenters make it) uses tomato paste or sort of tomato base to give the rice more of a red colour. If you have your recipe handy, or know how I can get that kind of scorched taste that the jollof I had in Nigeria has, do feel free to share it in the comments.

One of my colleagues who reads this blog (Hi Gen!) was kind enough to answer my question about why rice is not dirty. Apparently it’s not dirt per se that I’m washing off; it’s starch. If you like your rice sticky, don’t rinse it so much.

(For those of you still in shock, yes: I am almost 32 years old and not skilled at cooking Nigerian food. My oyinbo food repertoire is pretty dismal too.)

Does anyone know what jollof even means? I was explaining how to make this to a colleague and I have no idea where the word jollof comes from or what it means.

For the those interested in my (mom’s) technique, here goes:

I started with diced garlic and onions. I love garlic; I honestly can’t get enough of it. The fact that I’m unmarried allows me to indulge my love of garlic as often as I want to, without having to consider some guy’s feelings about the breath of the woman he’ll be kissing.

I heated some olive oil in a pot. Don’t be fooled by this picture…the oil only coated the bottom; I had to swirl it around to make sure the whole bottom of the pot got coated.

I tossed in the minced yummy garlic (five cloves) and sautéed it for about a minute.

I added one diced onion.

And not long after, I tossed in the ground beef…

…and browned it

I added some salt, curry, oregano, chili pepper and cayenne pepper to the mix. I should have kept track using a measuring spoon so I’d know exactly how much I added. My mom adds a tiny bit of margarine to the pot too, for flavour.

I then diced up some tomatoes (the ones that come in a can) and tossed them in.

I washed two cups of rice (why is rice so dirty, by the way?)…

…and added it to the pot once its contents had boiled.

And I let it simmer until it was done.

Yum (this is today, as lunch).

All’s well that ends well, right? Well, not completely. I didn’t add enough salt, a common problem with the food I cook. My mom told me to taste it before adding the rice, to make sure the seasoning was enough but the problem is I don’t know how salty or seasoned it should taste in order to be just right when you add in the rice. Now I know it definitely needs to taste saltier than I want it to end up.

So, it was a good first experience, making jollof rice on my own. I’m lucky that I knew what it was supposed to look like, and of course I’m blessed to have my dear mumsy around to get some much needed tips from. I don’t take this for granted.

And I have a beautiful kitchen, one that practically begs me to use it.

(The cutie in the picture is my mom.)

Almost a year ago, I went to my parents’ place for a lesson on cooking obe ata. I think my mother probably made her first obe ata at the age of seven. I’m 31 and I still have not made my own pot of stew all by my self (my mom was directing me that last time). I thought by now I would have graduated to more complex stews but instead, I’m still working on stocking my kitchen to prepare Nigerian food. Winter is coming and I would like to be able to make some delicious stews. Last week I made a first step: I bought myself some Maggi cubes:

I just need a few hundred other ingredients (see the comments on this entry for specifics) and next week I can start the cooking experiment in earnest: my goal is recreate the obe ata and have it taste good.

How do your cooking skills rate?

To help you out, here are the areas where I’d love your input:

• Best way to remove armpit hair
• Best exercise for flabby arms and stomach
• Quickest healthy meal
• How to wrap relaxed hair
• The essential spices for cooking most Nigerian dishes
• Least expensive way to call Nigeria (I think my current deal ($2.50 for 35 minutes) is ok but I wouldn’t mind something better)
• Best blemish-control regimen for the face
• How you keep up with your to do lists and get things done

In other news, I’m trying a new hair salon tomorrow morning for hair relaxing (I’m done with my old place). I’m hoping my scalp doesn’t get burned and I don’t get gouged financially! Ms. O and Bob-ij, I’m looking forward to receiving your recommendations for hair stylists in O-town!

I decided to spend Labour Day with my family today so bright and early at 2pm I showed up with two pots, a set of knives, cutting boards, some Knorr bouillon cubes, stewing beef and chicken. I wasn’t there just to visit, I was there to get lesson 1 of 100 from my dear mummy on cooking, Nigerian style (or maybe it’s more precise to say Yoruba style).

The lesson was on cooking obe ata (pepper stew). I know many of you have been cooking obe since you were old enough to reach the stove but alas, Good Naija Girl has not. This in fact was the first stew I have ever cooked in my entire life. This means that in the over four months that I have been living on my own, I have had obe in the house on only two occasions: early on when my family came over to help me set up some furniture while my mom cooked some stew, and two weeks ago when she gave me some of her efo riro (literally translated “stirred spinach”) to enjoy at home. The rest of the time I have been eating my white rice plain! Can you imagine? I have truly been suffering and it was all my fault (I had many many opportunities to learn to cook but I wasn’t interested at the time).

To my dear non-Nigerian readers, a Nigerian stew should never be confused with what North Americans call stew:

North American Stew

• slightly thicker than broth, and similar in colour to broth
• meat and vegetables appear in bite-sized chunks
• wouldn’t be described as spicy (words like “hearty” and “rich” come to mind)
• generally doesn’t require a blender in its preparation
• eaten on its own, with a spoon, like soup

Nigerian Stew

• usually thicker than North American Stew and red in colour
• meat appears in larger than bite-sized chunks and the vegetables do not appear in bite-sized chunks — they’re blended in
• usually spicy
• a blender is essential for its preparation
• could be eaten alone with a spoon but is often almost always eaten with something else

(I’m sure there are other differences that are currently escaping me).

(you can click the picture to make it bigger)

This particular stew is meant to be served over rice or with a variety of things that I will call nkan riro, which literally translated from Yoruba hopefully means “things that are stirred/mixed” which is about as vague as I can be, but I’m talking about dishes like eba, iyan, and amala. Some visual examples of these things can be found here, here and here respectively.

At first it was my mom and I in the kitchen but my dad was so fascinated by my lack of ability that while making his own pot of stew (a married African man who cooks! You can see why I am expecting my own husband to comfortable in the kitchen), he began to give me pointers too. Something that drives me nuts about cooking Nigerian food is the lack of precise measurements. It was enjoyable to see both parents estimating how much of various things I would need and then I’d measure it out and they would say “Oh, no, that’s too much” or “Ah ah, that is not enough”, as if I should just “know” how much is “enough”. But happily, the stew turned out well! I’ll supply pictures of the process in the future, especially when I have to make it all by myself without a parent looking over.

Oh, I have a question: