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To Father With Love: Pounded Yam, Okro & Stew

by on June 21, 2015
 

Happy Father’s Day, Daddy.

To the one who taught be about life, and death. Who always ate Pounded Yam on Sundays. Freshly pounded to the rhythm of Sunday afternoons and pestles. To the one whose love for me was second to none. If you were here, I would have cooked you a feast, set a glorious table before you and served it with a bottle of stout, or Gulder.

But you aren’t and that’s fine. We’ll celebrate the memories of you, as we pinch of soft, doughy yam – freshly pounded, and as we feast on soups, quick and easy.

A photo turned painting of my dad. Who would have been 76 today.  The man who sparked off my love for food so deep. He made everything from scratch. Everything. Abhorred stock cubes, loved pepper and buying things in bulk.  Much of my approach to food and

A delightful stew, made with ose Nsukka, now in season and ‘white okro’ – grated and cooked in water, with ground crayfish, salt and some more ose Nsukka for the shortest time…

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…till the okro loosens, changes green and becomes gelatinous.

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From pounded yam to plate doesn’t take that very long. And devouring it is the same.

As I ate this last Sunday, I thought of you. Of your love. Happy, sad, moving on.

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