One of the
advantages or the self-prescribed benefits of living in a city and being trendy
is finding places on the whimsy. If Sitcoms are to be believed our generation
finds their Eden or Zen place completely by whimsy, like Central Perk a-la popular sitcom Friends. We just stumble into places either because they are close
and convenient or we are out of options, and once stumbled we settle and that
place becomes the “spot”, or at least that’s how it works on TV. When I find
such a place I will be sure to inform you.
No, this entry will
not be about how I discovered Narnia in Abuja; although it was certainly in the
hopes of that that this particular consummate experience came about. Abuja as I
have mentioned many times before is a City of many talents, and lends itself to
discovery and definition. The road networks are easy enough to ply and traffic is
manageable; the result of this is that you often zoom past several places or “spots”
without paying it attention; it is therefore easy to discover somewhere that
had always been there and have your own little Indiana Jones moment.
On a night that had
seen me put more hours at the office than my contract stipulated or the International
Labour Organisation permitted, I felt famished expectedly and decided I wanted
to taste the orient, and still remain pocket friendly. Cheap Chinese, it was
then. Getting to Chinese Express I
was met with a sign informing me that they had shut down for renovation.
Perfect!!!
It was then I remembered
that I had heard of a Chinese Restaurant not too far from where I was, and I must
have driven past that road on many occasions without ever noticing. And so
began my consummate experience for the evening. The restaurant was easy enough to
locate, being on a prominent road in the Maitaima District of Abuja, after
disembarking I realised that the restaurant in question was Marcopolo of Lagos fame.
I was in the company
of one of our regular guests here on CE, we walked in with open minds, vowing
to judge the restaurant on its own merits and not in the shadow the Lagos
establishment. First thing you notice when you walk in is the space and the use
of space. Marcopolo is carved into a larger building, and if you weren’t looking
for it, you might not find it. The restaurant is L-shaped and neatly arranged
two person dining tables along the walls; the end result is very intimate; it
is almost like the interior designer didn’t want you hearing other diner’s
conversation or even smelling their food. It worked.
The lighting was
especially dim, and they had been placed in oriental looking fabric paper with
a reddish/clay hue- much like the CE at the Chinese
Express, where I had originally intended to dine-, and the room was also separated
in places by movable wooden partitions that weren’t ceiling high, so this meant
that if you were tall enough you could actually spy on other patrons who felt
they were being private. Taking the room in one glance it felt like a Geisha
would come out from the partition at any moment.
We were seated and
our waiter went off to bring our menus, in that time I gave the room another
once-over to observe other diners, seated behind us was the customary Abuja
socialite- at least that is the face he wore- and his female companion, who
also gave me a once-over and concluded in that same instant that I wasn’t in
the same social circle. The witch! (Please feel to replace the W with a B. Thanks).
Sitting diagonally from my table was a young couple with a new-born child whom they
couldn’t stop doting over. It was a nice visual, and somewhere in the back of
the L-shaped space there was revelry of some kind, and that place had been
partitioned off from us basic people.
The waiter arrived
with the menus and the evening became even more interesting. Running a curious
eye over some of the offerings I had to admit that they had covered the spread
nicely from Cantonese to Sichuan and Jiangsu cuisine, but some of the helpings
and prices were suspect. For instance the waiter and I got into it over their
Shark Fin dish; firstly Abuja for all its glory is landlocked, most of the
bodies of water in Abuja are manmade, and while it is just over an hour to
Lokoja where most of the seafood is sourced from, I am pretty sure that there
are no Great Whites lurking in the depths of the Niger and the Benue. Nothing
is impossible though, after watching Nigerians give new meaning to Free Willy with the stranded whale in
Lagos, it is quite possible that we have turned our appetites to other aquatic
predators.
After a spirited
conversation with the waiter where I made the observation that the menu was
probably printed off the web, I asked him to give me more time to make my
decision. I had a craving for a duck-based meal and flipped the menu over to that
section, and had another reason to summon the waiter for a round two of a
spirited conversation. Their Roasted Duck meal was set at N15, 000.00; I simply
wanted to find out why the duck was so expensive, and waited calmly to hear if
the duck in question was Donald Duck of Disney fame or perhaps his not so
distant cousin Daffy of Looney Toon fame or perhaps the mascot from the Mighty
Duck movie franchise, as it turned out the duck was none of the above, the
waiter did however have some interesting insights on agro-economics.
He departed a third
time, while I perused the menu for something reason satisfactory, I settled for
the Black Peppered Beef on a hot plate and the summoned my waiter for round
three of what had so far proven to be an interesting series. I also decided in
his transit to start my meal with a “cup” of chicken and sweet corn soup. When
he took down my menu, I enquired what the difference between a full bowl and a
cup of soup was, and he quite sternly told me that the former was ideal for two
people, and in the same breath told me he would cancel my large order as he
felt I would waste the food and the medium was a better choice for me.
After I picked up
my jaw from the floor, I proceeded to ask our nanny why he felt that I wasn’t capable
of making my own choices, he matter-0f-factly reiterated that I would end up
being wasteful and regretting my choice. I looked at Nanny Mcphee and I was
twice his size and it happened on me to mention that the reason for this was
because I indulged my palate, but you rarely meet people in businesses who aren’t
eager to take money off you; I figured he must be a Deeper Life member, so I
allowed him place the order as he saw best.
While we waited for
the senior prefect to bring our meal back, the restaurant received more guests,
it seemed the soiree in the back was an all ladies affair, and various women in
various stages of undress came walking in, looking straight ahead, with the
kind of steely determined hypocritical look you can only have when you are half
naked and don’t want to catch people looking in the exact way that such
dressing would inspire. We were in good company.
The meal finally
arrived, hot plate and everything, and the moment of truth arrived as I waited
to see just how much these generous waste-inducing portions were. Well, true to
the description the cup of soup was indeed served with a cup helping and I
still do not understand how the cup would have adequately served one person,
unless of course that person also wears a bib and is still mastering motor
skills. The soup was uninspired and lacked any memorable moments, and the
sizzle of the hot plate was the only thing distinct about the black peppered
beef. It was the equivalent of watching a movie trailer with the baritoned
voice-over, only to walk into the cinema hall and discover that the movie was
in fact freshly served manure. It was Tonto Dikeh till she opened her mouth. It
was false advertising. I have tasted more inspired meals and this particular
meal in other establishments; shout out to the Dragon Chinese Restaurant in
Port Harcourt!!!
In the middle of my
experience, I had forgotten to notice that our waiter had failed to deliver my
companion’s dish and when he was summoned for round four, he informed us
straight-faced that after my order he didn’t feel it was necessary to place the
second order, as surely I couldn’t finish that meal on my own and he didn’t want
waste. I concluded at that moment that surely he was a member of Deeper Life
and was opposed to any form of self-indulgence or whimsy, like cable
television, Ice-cream, breathing excess oxygen, Coca-Cola, extra helpings,
having more children that required to till your farm, spare change and facial
hair.
I convinced him to
please place the order, it was shredded chicken in green pepper, but as if he
wanted to prove the point the food arrived late, at which point we had finished
the first meal and really didn’t have the appetite to continue with the second
meal, before our waiter par excellence could break into a self-satisfied smile,
I countered him and asked him to pack it for take-away. As I broke into my own
self-satisfied smile, I almost shouted “checkmate dumbass!!!” but I decided to
be civil.
As we waited for
the take-away packs, one of the mannequins broke away from the crowd at the
back to answer the phone, unfortunately she drifted towards the young couple
and their new-born and I honestly cannot make this up, as soon as she came
close enough the baby started shrieking. Now the more scientific or practical
among you readers will say that’s a complete coincidence, but I have it on
authority that babies can sense evil more accurately than adults, and that’s
what I believe; her marine spirit upset the innocent child. The mother and
father obviously shared my opinion; they caught me in stitches and had a giggle
themselves. It was good to see that some people in this life hadn’t placed a
ban on whimsy or humour.
No sooner had I
bonded with perfect strangers over the marine spirit than the coven of winches (read:
witches or emere or ogbanje) and fleet of marine spirits made their way out
from the back, flaxen hair, bright prints and all. I didn’t make eye contact
with any of them, I have watched enough Nollywood movies, I glanced around for
my barometer of evil, but his mother had taken him outside to pacify him. Our
takeaways packs arrived; I had a lively conversation with Lurch our waiter,
settled the N10, 000.00 tab and walked out as the restaurant shut down.
As we walked out I
wondered why I had not asked the waiter if he was a Deeper Life Christian, and
reflected on a night borne completely out of whimsy and the subsequent rebel
against the whimsical.
Marcopolo Chinese Restaurant is located at 70 Usuma
Street, 911 Plaza, Maitiama, Abuja.
