Becoming a Member of The Clan

One defining characteristic of the Federal Capital is understatement; yes there are towers, grand structures, expensive cars and playgrounds for multimillionaires and billionaires, government pickpockets and expatriates; however it is never straightforward to tell who these people are. The City doesn’t lend itself to such revelations, apart from the red license plates of the diplomatic corps, the brandishing of Federal or State Government vehicles, the blue and white strip of Julius Berger, most people move about in anonymity.

Many of the more affluent assuming almost Bruce Wayne-esque characteristics; secret bad-guyses. Perhaps it has more to do with Northern culture than anything else- an Hausa man can have great wealth by all modern measures, and still take pride in driving a Japanese car and stepping out in modest attire- but Abuja, unlike its counterpart in Lagos doesn’t necessarily announce its wealthy, to be sure there are indicators but you have to look for them.

So it is only natural that the City has establishments that are strictly by membership and exclusive; places where these secret bad guyses/Bruce Wayne characters can meet over foreign wines and imported cigars and guffaw at their biblical-esque wealth, or perhaps sit across the room and play what I have aptly named “The I wonder how bad of a bad guys the other bad guy sitting across the room from me is?” admittedly I have to work on the name. But make no mistake Abuja people, particularly the men have become championship players, the rules of the game are simple,

1. You walk into a room all aloof and pretend not to notice other patrons or anyone in general, although for expert players at this stage you would have scanned the area for all potential bad guyses, expert players will know never to stare, all this must be done from your periphery. Expert players will also know to scan the room for lesser bad guyses already established from a previous game, so you can pretend not to notice them notice you when you walk in and see how long it takes them to come say hello to you, and if they don’t you have more material to gossip with. It is an intricate game of details, suspicion and counter-suspicion.
2.  Second you sit down, and regally flick your middle and index finger in the air in a circular motion to no-one in particular, the trick is to establish eye contact with a waiter you know, but to everyone else in the room it must look effortless. The need to call on a waiter you know is revealed now, you call him by his name, establishing familiarity and letting all other potential bad guyses in the room know that you are a frequenter there. The conversation may go a little something like this

                                                               i.      Waiter: Ah Welcome Sir/Ma, Long time

                                                             ii.      Bad Guys/Girls: Ehn, Elijah, Bawo, Ku jo meta (How are you, been a while)

                                                            iii.      Waiter: A dupe, se travel? (I am fine, have you been away?)

                                                           iv.      Bad Guys/Girls: Yes, I travelled on business (Killer Bad Guys move!!!!!)

                                                             v.      Waiter: Welcome back

                                                       vi.      Bad Guys/Girls: Thank you, let me have the usual. (Killer Bad Guys combo!!!!!!)

3. After you have established you are a bad guyses by the killer moves mentioned in B, you sit back and let the games begin, all other bad guys would have heard your conversation and have entered the game, or they didn’t pay attention because you they don’t play on the same level with you- they are either too much of a bad guyses or not bad guyses enough, in which case they are not your competition. Happy Games!!!

One such place where these senseless mind games are played is Clan Cafe. Other places where Bad Guys/Girls meet in the Capital like the Hilton Hotel, Beer Barn, Salamander Café are incidental or natural habitat of bad guys. The Clan Cafe isn’t. It knows exactly what it is, it is a deliberate attempt to woo high-class clientele; the Clan restaurant is open to members only. It is a place that serves the palate and the need for privacy. I visited The Clan Cafe in the early days when their doors were open to all and sundry. Hi, I am sundry. I had heard about the place from my friend and business partner, Simi, she is so much of a bad guys, we will simply refer to her as Chairwoman.

The Clan Café is located in the Maitama district of Abuja, a few hundred meters from the The Hilton Abuja, in an obscure building cut diagonally from the Court of Appeals. The building isn’t remarkable and it is easy to drive by a hundred times and never notice it was there, the architecture doesn’t beckon or attempt to draw you in. There are no bold signage’s to announce the building, it is almost like the architect wanted you to ignore it. This suits Clan Café perfect, located on the third floor, like the building that houses it, there is just a door, and no announcement or information. There are no windows for you to peek inside, just the door with a medusa head on it, it gives the feeling of walking into Narnia or joining a secret cult.

Clan Café wants to keep itself secret and the interior designers wants whoever walks through the door to want to keep the place a secret too. Wooden finishing, mahogany tables and matching brown leather sofa will make you want to keep it a secret, you automatically know that it is not a place for a crowd, or for jousting or loud discussions about which Premier League side is the best. It is a place you arrive in, a place where you can say as much as you want or little at all, a place of no expectation, just food and leisure.

I sat down and gestured for the menu, after glancing through a robust menu and wine section, I ordered the Chicken Ravioli and the Shrimp Scampi for starters and the Rigatoni Bella Lusia for my main meal. I glanced around the room once more and took in the elevated centre of the room complete with a small piano and three couches. The entire room had the feel of a lounge. There was a balcony that you could walk onto and view a good portion of the Maitama skyline, so I left the bar where I had settled and walked to a two-seater table and looked out to Maitama. I could make out the Maitama roundabout, and the British Rooftop Café, a ghost of its former self, since abandoned because of security threats. The idea of being in an anonymous location suddenly had its merits.

I had ordered a Chapman and it arrived in a thinner glass than usual, nicely played Clan. As I waited the sounds of Michael Bolton, Leanne Rimes and Lionel Richie would stream from the speakers gently, nothing against those artistes but I expected that with the mood lighting and general feel of the entire room I would be listening to smooth jazz. The crowd in the room was light and there was no one to play my favourite Abuja game of The I wonder how bad of a bad guys the other bad guy sitting across the room from me is?  with. 

My meal(s) arrived, and as sophisticated as Clan wants to be, it fell prey to the general practice of serving the starters and the main course all at once, crowding the table and giving the impression that the patron is greedier than s/he really is.

That aside, I started with the Shrimp Scampi and that was good as Scampi gets, I think I may have had enough of Scampi because it didn’t leave a bad taste in my mouth, but by the same token it wasn’t remarkable, much like the architecture of the building, I knew there was food in my mouth but it could just as well have been air. 

I moved onto the Chicken Ravioli which I was particularly curious about, my experience with Ravioli has been a cream based dish (shout out to Picolo Mondo) in Lagos, but what was on the table had more of a semblance to pepper soup more than anything else. On tasting it I confirmed what I had earlier suspected, it was Ravioli dipped in some variation of the Nigerian delicacy Pepper Soup. I credit the chef with what I want to believe is innovation, but like the Scampi it was occupying but it was easily forgettable.

His Piece de Resistance however was the Rigatoni Bella Lucia, which is basically a Chicken-Pasta dish, held together by white sauce, cheese and cream; and my greatest undoing was ordering the starters because dear lord, one taste of that meal and I felt the cynicism and apathy die in my mouth. It is the kinda food that can cause unemployment, because weeks after having the meal I was still daydreaming about it. I have always said that a good chef is the one that gives you sensory overload, confusing your palate so you don’t know which part of the meal you want to taste again, or which part tastes better if you nibble it alone, and which part of the meal cannot be taken out lest the meal collapse. This Chef was a good one.

He walked out while I was still cursing myself for having ordered the starters as I was already full, he was a giant of a man, towering well over my above average height of 6ft2. He stopped at each table introducing himself to every diner and asking how they enjoyed their meal, my table was last on his route and as he came closer I realised that as tall as he was he was just a tellytubby, he didn’t look threatening, which is all the better for me, as I plan to kidnap him in the not too distant future. He introduced himself as Simon, and I confirmed to him what I am sure he has heard many times before, he was a brilliant chef. As he made his way back into the kitchen, there was a knock in the door, and in walked a group of potential bad guys. I smiled to myself and quickly turned back to my food before they caught me staring, let the games begin!

The Clan Café is located in Clan Place on Tigris Crescent, Maitama, Abuja. The building after the NYSC Headquarters and diagonal from the Federal Court of Appeals.

Sidenote: I have since returned to Clan Café many more times, I tried the Roast Potatoes and Steak meal, it tasted like it was made for Zeus, I have also re-ordered the Rigatoni meal it is just as good if not better. This is all by way of saying that Simon is still excellent. The Clan Café has now restricted service to members whom I hear pay dues of N500, 000.00 yearly. God Bless Them.


 

Roaming Edition: On Top of the Food Chain

Man undoubtedly has been placed on top of the food chain by nature, by the universe, by God or whatever deity you believe in. We are veritably on top, for those of you that have any doubts walk into a Brazilian restaurant, whatever doubts you walked in with you will leave there on your way out.

As an African man, especially a Nigerian Yoruba man I have always prided myself on being able to consume meats, lots of it. This was till I walked into a Brazilian restaurant in Nairobi, the capital of Kenya. I had visited the country while I was much younger but I can vaguely recall it and I am confident that the visit then was transitory; so visiting the country again felt like coming to it for the first time.

The impression of Kenya that most people have although I can only speak for myself, is that it is a premium tourist destination, filled with wildlife, savannahs, plains and where man can be one with nature. I am sure Kenya is all those places and more but I am yet to discover that Kenya, what I have seen so far is a country is that remarkably similar to the one I left; our socio-cultural and political eerily mirror each other, Kenya possesses like Nigeria rival ethnic groups and tribes all vying for control and power and all screaming marginalisation when they do not get it. More than anything, the sense that the country is not living up to its greatest potential is palpable.

What we do not have in Nigeria however, at least in Abuja is a Brazilian restaurant, and that I quickly found out is a shame. I walked into the restaurant with a vague understanding of what a Brazilian restaurant offers, to be clear most Brazilian restaurants or Churrascaria (steak house) are based on a Rodizio (continuous service) where passadors (meat carvers) pass from table to table slicing grilled meat directly onto your plates.

What the Brazilians have managed to do is remove the traditional wait-to-be-served system and move the back of house directly to the dining area, it is a mobile continuous grill, it is an Alice in Wonderland experience, it is an excellent place to lose discipline or discover you never had it, and it was a humbling experience for a proud Yoruba man.

On the table with me was Consummate Experience veteran Bayo Imam whom you will recall I had the good fortune of meeting during another Consummate Experience (http://restaurantsinabuja.blogspot.com/2011/03/three-guys-girl-and-english-plate.html) and his lovely Fiancée Meena and her sister. Bayo deserves credit because he found the place and introduced me to Brazilian styled gluttony.

Fogo Gaucho, the restaurant looked to be located in what I am told is the City Centre, the interior of the restaurant was detailed in wood from the floor to the roof, nothing exquisite but it rendered itself very African and authentic; I am yet to understand why exactly but it worked. The dining area would take about 50 covers comfortably. The restaurant wasn’t full, there were few other patrons in the restaurant, and this was because we walked in slightly before 3pm which was the end of that shift to begin again at 7pm.  Figures, I imagine in the 4 hour window they go hunting for more meat.

The ladies had arrived there before Bayo and myself and looking at the ever growing pile of animal flesh on their plate, I knew that I should pace myself; so following Bayo’s lead so I began with a Rudolf Salad, hard lettuce and garlic bread all dripped over with Thousand Island Sauce, if you are familiar with this sauce you know It makes everything taste better, except Rudolf Salad which contains pineapple pieces and sans the sauce still tasted like cattle curdle and yeast, it’s probably named Rudolf Salad because that’s what Rudolf the reindeer would eat. It was a miss.

I was still trying to understand the disappointment in my mouth, when it began. He appeared by my side with a carving knife, he politely asked me if I would like some, I said yes and he graciously went through it with his carving knife and encouraged me to pick it off with the forceps. I did. I thanked him, and was about to begin when someone else appeared by side smiling and asked me if he too could slice for me, I affirmed and thanked him. I once again prepared myself to begin when someone else appeared smiling, asking if he too could cut through some meat for me, well since he offered and was smiling I once again affirmed and was about to begin when someone else appeared. It was then I realised.

This was a torture house, and they were all smiling because they were all sadists and this is how they got their kicks. Hakuna Matata my ass! There was plenty to be worried about!!! So when the next meat dealer came I asked him before he sliced through another portion of meat, to confirm if they had a first-aid kit because it was obvious they were trying to induce cardiac arrest. After I had my fit, Bayo informed me that there was a card on the table next to me that I needed to flip over to the red side to indicate I wasn’t ready for a stroke.

They eventually stopped coming and I was able to concentrate on the meal(s), I honestly cannot tell you how they all tasted as they kept on coming it wasn’t long before I started confusing lamb for chicken and that for sirloin but I will say this much they covered the entire range and it was good enough to keep flipping the serve-card to green.

The walking buffet included Linguica (Pork sausages seasoned in Garlic), Costela (Tender Ribs), Pincanha (Cap of Rump), Frango Com Pimenta (Marinated Chicken Thighs) amongst others and they kept coming. It wasn’t long before I realised that there were limits to my carnivore status, but those damn waiters and their smile, they kept politely enticing you with foreign sounding names and perfectly glazed grilled meat, and I kept saying yes.

After 30 minutes of dedicated silence and concentration, those of us wearing trousers subtlety began to reach under the table to loosen our belt buckles and those that had already done that began to unbutton the pants altogether. There was a chorus of sighs, heavy breathing as only the brave of us continued to nibble.

If we had any troubles stopping ourselves from eating, when Bayo’s sis-in-law, a doctor moved the conversation to testicular abscesses it became incredibly easy for the food intake to halt abruptly. While we were trying to dissuade the doctor from revealing the most lurid details of her trade, a gentlemen of a much bigger disposition waddled his way into the restaurant, I thought for a moment I saw terror in the managers eyes as he calculated how many cattle would have to be separated from the herd for him, but it was past 3pm and they had to usher him out. I don’t know what was discussed but I imagine he told them that he would be back at 7pm, as he made his way out in his finely cut suit that I am sure was made from what was originally a swimming pool trampoline cover.

Time passed, and the rest of our contingent opted for dessert. I am sorry but I draw the line at grilled pineapple, especially after the experience with the Rudolf Salad. As we all waddled out of Jurassic Park, I made what was the genius observation that they should have stretchers that patrons can pick before they begin eating, and they can rent beds for patrons who are overtaken by The Itis. That is an original idea; I did not steal it from Boondocks. Honestly.

I encourage everyone to go to a Brazilian Steak House, as you are bound to get lost in the many options, go at least for the experience. I also encourage teachers to change their biology curriculum to make visiting a Brazilian Steakhouse the practical lesson to understanding the food chain, it may just make more people vegetarians or vegans, all the better, more for me.

Fogo Gaucho is located at Viking House, Westlands, Nairobi Kenya. They can be contacted on +254 (20) 3544037 or on +254 (0) 729 243202, and you can visit their Facebook page to find out more http://www.facebook.com/FogoGaucho/info

Sidenote: Congratulations to frequent Consummate Experience frequenter, Michael Johnson on the birth of his baby boy. Michael is a friend from my university years; he is a stand-up fellow whom happens to have discovered his latent talent for child rearing. He is now the proud father of three children and I congratulate him and wife Uzoezi on the birth of their son, “May the road always rise to meet him”. Amen.

Honey Glazed Heartbreak in the Capital

Of all the arts, I imagine that writers are the laziest right after painters, an idea can grow in our minds for eons before we commit pen to paper or in this case fingers to keyboard. I have a lot of respect for writers who constantly have to write with deadlines; I simply do not know how one would remain creative in such circumstances. All this is simply to say that I have been meaning to update this space for a while now, and had hoped that I would be able to fit this in before the end of June, as today is the first of July suffice it to conclude I am lazy.

While I contemplate my apparent lethargy in the month of June, there are many families that aren’t so fortunate to have cosmetic problems, by now it is common knowledge that a commercial airline bound for Lagos from our very own Abuja crashed minutes away from landing in Lagos, leaving the two major cities of the country in mourning and for many catatonia. The plane took with it a considerable number of passengers ultimately spinning a web of collective heartbreak and despond across many households in Abuja. By remote chance mine was one of them.

There have been many analyses of the aviation sector and the ailing of the Nigerian Nation as my people, Nigerians are wont to do. The internet is aflush with theories and rebuttals; this page will not be one to contribute to any of the above. What I know is food, and that’s what I will stick to despite my strong political leanings. However mention of the tragedy sets the backdrop for today’s consummate experience. 

Vanilla Restaurant has long been part of the Abuja social establishment, having shared the same space with the Soho club in Maitaima for many years it was conveniently located and was easily one of the more recognisable restaurants in the city. However as the popularity and appeal of Soho waned, it seemed the management of the restaurant felt it was better to relocate, perhaps in a bid to create an independent identity for the restaurant. Abuja, it must be understood is a city of whims and moods, more than any other city in Nigeria; with fewer options on the social catalogue than Lagos, it seems the residents of the capital are forever on the lookout for the next attraction, for the next thing, even if it’s the same thing repackaged. To be a successful social entrepreneur is to understand that fundamental truth.

Vanilla restaurant after leaving the sinking ship that is Soho has reopened its doors at No. 28 Pope John Paul 11 Crescent, Maitaima; for those who have spent some time on the social circuit you will recognise this address as the same for Quorum, a nightspot famed for its live band performance headlined by Afro-Soul crooner Dare, that establishment has long since gone the way of the many before it. It was at vanilla that a close friend and my business associate requested we have a working lunch; she had lost a sister on the plane and while I was sure I didn’t have an appetite for food or much else, I didn’t want to leave her alone.

Walking in, you are welcomed in the lobby/slash reception area by an eager waiter or manager who seems genuinely pleased to welcome you; the lobby divides Vanilla into lounge/bar and dining area. Perhaps there –in the lobby- you are meant to battle with yourself over whether to step into the bar or dining area, the manager and the waiter both representing either good or evil, given how many people were in both areas, I’d say that battle is usually evenly decided.

There is a strong resonance of orange in Vanilla and more especially the lounge where the bar stools and the seats are covered in orange leather. The dining is more a blend of the orient and continental with strong woodwork and I estimate it will take just under 40 covers, with conventional two-seater, four-seater  and the bigger twelve-seater tables . We sat down and we were offered the menu, they have an interesting range of drinks and cocktails that include names like “Pimp Juice”, I settled for the less sinful “Mudslide” that was some combination of Vanilla Ice-cream and Crushed Oreos. I also ordered Salt and Pepper Calamari, but they didn’t have any left, in the end I settled for Prawn Spring Rolls and Sticky Glazed Lambchops that was advertised as succulent grilled lamb chops with a honey and mint glaze served with balsamic salad.

Try as we may the conversation kept returning to the events of the week, the loss, the finality of death, it was all sombre stuff and in the interim we would find ourselves focusing on the music as distraction. The soft melodies of Boyz ll Men were pouring over the speakers, and perhaps because we were deliberately looking for a distraction it was spellbinding stuff, more importantly as a lifelong Boys ll Men fan I hadn’t heard this album, I quickly concluded it must have been released on the Asian markets or something. Known or not, their rendition of Bonnie Raitt’s “I can’t make you love me” was heartbreaking, and though a ballad,  it wasn't helping the already funereal dampness in the room. (Disclaimer: If you listen and like the molesting and abuse of Justin Bieber, Pitbull, Florida and David Guetta, don’t bother with the song.) 

My spring rolls arrived and they were as spring rolls are; greasy dough wrapped around a prawn or two drowned in mayonnaise.

 A recent report stated that Nigerian men have a life expectancy of 47 years. No contest. 

The spring rolls were gone as fast as they came; restaurants, especially restaurants in Nigeria should stop calling the entrées “Starters”- how can you start something that is finished even before you realised it was there- and find a more accurate term for it like decoration. I began to people watch as I have found that some of the more interesting scenarios happen in restaurants. There was a sizeable Chinese contingent in the room, and they had been there for a while. I later found out that they were the reason I couldn’t have “Salt and Pepper Calamari”. To be a world power sha……..

 A comely lady most likely in her late forties to fifties had glided into the room furiously tapping away on her Blackberry oblivious to the rest of the world, I am convinced that when the devil will announce world takeover it will be through a BB broadcast. Soon after her a gentleman in his late forties walked in  a pin-stripe Suit  wearing a pin-stripe Shirt- now gentleman I don’t care what GQ or Mode Men says, there are certain laws of dressing that should remain, there is no reason In the world why you should look like a Zebra crossing or a barcode.

That would have been the end of my people watching, had the barcode not try to leave the room for whatever reason and be stopped by the cougar who insisted that she knew him. At this time she had been joined by another lady, to whom she insisted she knew barcode.

 Barcode feeling ever so important with himself asked what line of work she was in, as he did a lot of consulting for companies. Barcode ever so pleased with himself at being “spotted” kept one hand in his pocket and one on his chest, as cougar began to scan him for point of origin; in his euphoria barcode had forgotten that he had been joined by a date who was young enough to be his daughter. I could tell they were not in any kind of serious relationship, because he didn’t cast a wary eye to his table to see if madam had noticed this unsolicited female attention as committed men are bound to do, and for her part the child-date was tapping away at her devil control instrument (BB) probably explaining to her real boyfriend that she would be late because “Uncle” wanted her to run some errands. Sigh, The Secret lives of Nigerians- someone should write the book.

Anyway barcode and cougar settled that he was a friend of her brother’s and promised to call each other (Wink Wink) as barcode continued his journey out of the room. By the way, if you are wondering how I heard all this, well the answer is quite simple really….I be amebo.

My food arrived shortly after that, and I will say this much the presentation was very pristine and more so it distracted further from the abiding presence of the grim reaper. I will pick roasted potatoes over sautéed any day, and the chef reminded me why. The potatoes weren’t as quick to sting the tongue as they would be if they were roasted, and this lamb must have been very stubborn and very athletic, because the meat was tough and sparing, and the honey was generously glazed to serve as compensation. I was more expectant of the meal; however a restaurant sometimes is more than the food, it’s the experience, the service and the ambience, it is the conversations it makes you have and the people it makes you notice or remember.

And I remember that in my early teenage years on the eve of a class field trip, everybody was naming allergies and  t seemed I was the only one without, there was a chocolate covered honey bar on my table (Crunch: A Cadbury product if I remember correctly) so I boldly declared I was allergic to honey; it seemed to impress the girl with the nut allergies I was trying to impress, apparently even Superman has to have Kryptonite.

For the most part, during the time my friend and I spent there,  it was easy to remember death and heartbreak but it was just as easy to forget it, even if momentarily. If Vanilla could do that when we were sad, then I very much look forward to seeing what happens when I have reason to celebrate.

Vanilla Restaurant can be contacted on Phone 1: +234 (0)705 735 1719, Phone 2: +234 (0)810 454 5070 and BB PIN: 283C77B7. Please visit their impressive website at http://www.vanilla-abuja.com/ or their Facebook page http://www.facebook.com/pages/Vanilla-RestaurantCocktail-Lounge-Abuja/190226271052413. Al Fresco Dining is available with a Grill area nicely done under a thatch roof.

Sidenote: For those of you interested The Boyz ll Men songs were off an Album called “Love” released in 2009.

Roaming Edition: A Love Affair With the Ocean in The Gambia

There are ways you live your life that make it seem like you are leaving parts of yourself hidden, not being the complete version of yourself- and certainly a place like the internet isn’t the place to always reveal so much information- however there are certain key elements of life or a person’s life without which there isn’t much of a person. And I have certainly run this space like one of those key institutions doesn’t exist, I shall hope to remedy that with this post.


I have had the privilege of sharing my life over the past three years with a remarkable woman and friend who has made life a collection of consummate experiences and who, outside of the location and dish will be the main focus of the consummate experience this time. Her name is Jade.


 Gambia, is the location of this consummate experience and while the what, why, when and how may intrigue you, suffice it to say that I carry Abj everywhere I go so it all tallies. Gambia, the small country on the coast of West Africa is host to about two million plus inhabitants, and is fast becoming the de facto destination for holiday makers in the West Africa. The Gambia as it is officially known is a stretch of country across the Atlantic and at any time British vacationers or other members of the European contingent can be found lying under the sun or walking the streets.


We arrived at Banjul International Airport, after what seemed an eternity in between Lagos and Freetown, Sierra Leone. During the flight we had slept and woke several times, we had eavesdropped on other conversations and wondered why the only male air steward was forever frowning- I have a theory for that but can’t share it as it won’t be politically correct. I also defeated Jade, try as she may at cards, which set the tone for the rest of the holiday. I rule.


Living the life that I have lived so far, I have a special affinity for airports, especially international airports, they are the first impression of a country, the first handshake if you will and while Banjul Airport was a nice fist bump it wasn’t the hearty slap on the back that the Nigerian Airport in comparison. I would find that other things would also pale in comparison.


 My eager fiancée and chief travel agent was first off the bus and encouraging me to take pictures of the airport to chronicle our sojourn, I am Johnny Depp cool and casually glided past, because although I was dressed like a tourist I was not about to affirm any one’s suspicions. Jade, knowing me began to take the pictures herself; at the time of this entry she had yet to prove to me what we would ever use those pictures for.


We cleared immigration with ease and our airport pickup was waiting with our names boldly written, good tidings. We got into the car and began to sip on our complimentary water from the hotel, and we were in the Gambia. As we drove on what looked to be a newly constructed highway I noticed the similarities with Nigeria, Gamcell the major phone network provider had their ads all over the place with claims of over 90 per cent of the market. Their President also had his picture on almost every billboard and streetlight just in case, in the five seconds it took you to move from one streetlight to another, you forgot who was President.


There were no traffic bottlenecks or logjams, expectedly given the population and no one seemed to be in a rush anywhere, even the air, which was dusty and gloomy, seemed to be happy to remain still. In a short time, we had moved into Brufut Gardens the Presidential area, and supposedly their version of Maitaima, Nigeria’s premium real-estate for the dead of conscience. The architecture was appealing while at the same time simple, nothing grandiose, no attempts to build a small republic and call it a house as my countrymen are so wont to do.


I was beating myself up over not having studied the history of the Gambia when we quickly arrived at the gates of the Sheraton Gambia Hotel, Resort and Spa and that’s when I saw her, glistening in the sun, gently swaying in the wind, her wide load evenly spread on the landscape – yeah break in transmission, if you don’t know I am talking about the ocean by now something is wrong with you and you are a pervert, I mean cmon! Jade was right next to me how would I be looking at another woman in front of her, not that I would look if she weren’t there, but you get my point- the Atlantic in all her glory. Jade was in charge of planning the trip, and while she had sent me several mails concerning the trip, I had glanced through them without detail. Being Johnny Depp cool, I rarely smile but on this occasion there wasn’t enough space between my ears and my mouth.


Check-in was processed, and Jade who is the stronger of us at bargaining dealt with the administrative things and I like a curious child wandered to the windows to behold the Atlantic, my saline lover. The Sheraton Gambia is built on a hill, with the reception on the top floor and the rooms cascading the rest of the hill in different places. It at once looks like an African village and an Arabian Harem, stretching a significant portion of the beach. I liked it because it made me focus on more than thing at a time, it was pleasant.


 Our room was on the beach, note not by the beach but on the beach, open the veranda window and you were a few hundred feet from the gentle washing of Amphitrite. Taking in God’s work and defying the laws of gravity with Arik works an appetite; we had missed lunch and so decided to order from the A La Carte menu. There was a fine selection but we settled on the Grilled Australian Beef Tenderloin (Well done), with roast potatoes, mushroom a la Greek, whole corn and black pepper sauce. All the ingredients come back to me easily, because it’s a dish to remember.


We waited a while but it was worth the wait, the steak was a generous helping and had been grilled just an inch of being burnt, it was tough but easy to cut and bounced around the teeth with ease, it wasn’t so strong that it felt like chewing gum and it wasn’t too soft that you swallowed it without tasting. The roasted potatoes were golden and had been salted so they looked like they were folded and wrapped into themselves; they met the fork with cooperation. The black pepper and the mushroom added savoury to a dish that was already excellent on its main helping- you can tell a chef has done his/her job when a dish confuses you, when you are caught between two minds whether to finish the food on time because your mouth is impatient or to be calm and enjoy it. Jade resolved that dilemma rather quickly because by the time I looked up to ask her if she liked it, there was nothing left to like.


We ordered the meal the next day but it was disappointing and obviously not the same chef. I asked.


Outside of the food and the Sheraton, there is a bit to see in the Gambia; they have developed their tourism industry to the point that you can pick a range of activities to do while there. There is the Makasoko Forest Reserve with a bit of widelife and floating villages , you can opt to go fishing for the day and sunbathe on the roof of fishing boats, you could opt for a golfing session, or a visit to the former slavery depot and learn about the origins of Kunta Kinte among a range of activities. We chose none, between eating, sleeping, swimming, beach walking and me trouncing Jade at cards and table tennis we were fully occupied.


There is a stretch of about half a kilometre that is known as the Senegambia Street, which is the main tourist area, it supposedly is meant to have restaurants and shops, casinos, clubs and restaurants. I think the Gambian expectation for a high brow area greatly differs from the Nigerian expectation. The African Crafts market may be a delight for our European brethren but as an African living in Africa you most likely won’t encounter anything to astound you, although a lot can be said about Jade negotiating skills, I had to walk out of stalls before I found myself begging that her price slashing was too much.


 Jade managed to convince me to go for a massage at the Sheraton Spa, which was a first for me. It was a mistake, in the end all they did was grease me, molest and slap me with calloused hands. I may as well have been a turkey.


I spent many early mornings sitting outside the room on the veranda watching the ocean; I watched it fall and rise over and over, just at the mouth though like it had a thousand words and they could be any answer to any question you asked. The Ocean; the Constant Conversation and it would keep speaking for many more hundred years. I quickly snapped out of my thoughts when the real answer to all my questions would wake from sleep, I’d realise then that there are better things in this life than far away beaches and endless oceans. Actually, there is just one. Jade.


The Sheraton Gambia Hotel Resort & Spa is located at Brufut Heights, Serrekunda; The Gambia. More information can be culled from www.sheraton.com/gambia and they are reachable on + 220 441 0889 and +220 775 4402


 Sidenote: All intending couples or married couples should buy a table-tennis set, it will do wonders, trust me.

Rapture On Minister's Hill

I have been scolding myself for not updating this sooner, but  every time I did I noticed that there was a certain calm, I felt like there was still more time- and today I found out why, this year is a leap year, so turns out I had an extra day in February to post a new entry. And here it is!!!! In all its literary mediocrity.

In my last few entries, unwittingly I have established a trend with the last two restaurants I have visited, seems I have touched on two of the holy trinity of Abuja dining according to some, something I only noticed when I happened on today’s consummate experience.

Chopsticks Chinese Restaurant for many is the jewel in the crown of Abuja dining, one of the restaurants that has come to be part of the Abuja social establishment, it was long ago concluded by many that it was the de facto restaurant for Oriental dining in the city.

After a day that included meetings and dilly-dallying on where we should eat, my colleague and I found ourselves in the restaurant under the auspices of one of our more senior associates. I am stickler for free food, especially speciality cuisine; I just wished my colleague had intimated me that we might be dining out and in fine company; I might have paid more attention to the wardrobe.

Chopsticks is located on Ministers Hill, in the Maitaima District of Abuja, from my previous posts you will understand that this area is prime real estate, and is home to past Presidents, serving officials of Government, Foreign dignitaries and their ilk, generally the area hosts the kind of  money that can reinitiate slavery. The Per Capita Income of Maitaima is probably more than some small African Countries. (Coughs: Togo)

I walked into Chopsticks wearing what can only be described as bathroom slippers, bright orange flowery beach shorts, and a grey t-shirt with  turquoise trimmings and a three month old beard, now for you that have begun to snicker, bear in mind that (1) this is a food critique blog, what I wear to these experiences is irrelevant, (2) if you continue to snicker your throat will be inflicted with severe muscle spasm.

A glance around the room and it didn't take advanced maths to realise I stuck out sorely, and with my penchant for slinging my car keys on a lanyard around my neck, I looked like the driver of the group, and as though the money-gods of Maitaima had decided to punish me I was seated with my unfortunate colleagues smack-dab in the middle of the dining area.

My choice of threads continued to be the highlight of the evening as the waiter ‘forgot’ to bring me a menu, as he went to correct his error, I cast a glance around the room to observe. Like most Abuja restaurants, Chopsticks resembled a large house that had been converted to a restaurant, though at this point most upscale restaurants all resemble large houses you have to wonder if the design is deliberate.

The dining area is spaciously used, sitting an estimate of 40 Persons in the main atrium of the dining space, there is a pocket right at the back that holds a bar and intimate dining area carved away from main view, given my attire I was wondering why they hadn’t set us there. There is an open space outside for dining alfresco, with a garden of sorts, if the intention was to have a calming effect for diners who had chosen to dine outside, it worked.

The décor of the restaurants was non-threatening, that is to say understated; there was no blaring Chinese music, drawings or insignia, apart from the name it could be any other restaurant.

The menus arrived in short order, and we placed our orders, Singapore Noodles, Fish Dishes, Chicken and Mushroom Soup, Shredded Beef in Black Bean Sauce, the menu was a combination of Schezuan and Cantonese style cooking, our drinks arrived and as is occurrent around most Nigerian dinner tables, the discussion moved to politics.

I have stated on several occasion that this is not a political page but to be a Nigerian living in Nigeria and in the Capital city; the seat of Power, makes you two things; a political animal and a die-hard capitalist. The conversations drifted from the performance or lack of performance thereof of the Incumbent, to the recent street protests and occupy movements in the country, to the issue of corruption being systemic or individual, which really is Nature vs Nurture by another name, luckily something, happened to break the melee.

The lights began to flicker till they went off completely; I have never actually experienced the Nigerian Green Movement (which is when the Nigerian Environmental Protection Agency (NEPA) decides we have consumed enough electricity and switches off all power to monitor our carbon footprint) in a restaurant so I was surprised. The lights continued till they dimmed and then I heard a loud blaring of what I thought was a trumpet.

The Rapture was happening.

I was certain that residents of the following areas would not make it, Maitaima, Aso Rock & Villa, Asokoro, Wuse ll, Apo Legislative Quarters, and quite possibly Zone 4 and Area 11 Port Harcourt Crescent. I was determined not to keep them company; I quickly reviewed the happenings of my day and tried to make amends before Louie Armstrong in the sky would stop playing, but my immediate past sins against the office of the President were too long for me to apologise for in one breath, and in my state of despair I heard what sounded like Stevie Wonder singing, wait a minute, Stevie is blind not dead, what’s he doing singing celestial homecoming??

Then it all became clear, a cake with sparkling candles appeared, and Stevie was actually singing his famous Happy Birthday Song, I looked and saw the little truant who had caused me to doubt my rapture status (Of course I am going to Heaven) jumping up and down in anticipation of his cake. I calmed down and wished that for his fear-mongering he would lose a tooth! What! They are supposed to come out anyway at that age. And what restaurant still dims the lights for a cake!!! And it happened twice, another girl had the audacity to be born on the same day, but at the time I was tucked into my food.

The food arrived and I am always surprised at how quickly a table steeped in heated debate can be muted by food, never underestimate human baser instincts. The soup was pleasant but not memorable, again this may be the fact that I am well accustomed to Chinese cuisine or it could just be that the soup was not memorable.

I moved onto my main course which was the shredded beef in black bean sauce, something else happened on the night that made me seriously question whether the end of the world was indeed upon us. My fellow diners began to reach across the table to my side and dip in my bowl of shredded brown meat and carry on like all was well, now I am no expert but I am sure there is something in the Geneva convention about human rights, I would have protested but then I had just the right amount of manners to remember I was there under the good graces of someone else, and if I established that precedent I would have succeeded in disabling myself from paying them in kind, and I really wanted that.

The shredded beef meal wasn’t a revelation, it was safe but it didn’t push any frontiers or make me bite my tongue, I suppose for that I would need gourmet, so it was still a very good meal. Rapture did happen that night though, when I heaped a forkful of Singapore Noodles into my face, I saw trees of trees of green, red roses too, I saw them bloom for me and you, and I thought to myself what a wonderful world….undoubtedly Chopsticks serve the best Singapore Noodles in Abuja. They made me want to confess my sins, to put it simply Goodluck Jonathan will make an inspired President when you are eating the noodles, Beyonce will make a fine actress, Ice Prince will be a competent musician and Bankole Wellington will learn to sing in more than one range or key, in retrospect I honestly think the Noodles might have been laced with something, but outside of proof of that, they were phenomenal.

We finished our meals and the bill was settled, I had a pleasant dining experience despite my wrong-footed attire and the earlier celestial scare. For many Chopsticks remains the premier Chinese restaurant in  Abuja, I am personally more disposed to Woks & Koi in Silverbird which has been reviewed here already. But Chopsticks has its charms, walking out I noticed that there was another restaurant, Caesars in the same compound with Chopsticks, it looked just as grand and a place where EFCC-bait came to relax, it piqued my interests. But not on a day that I had come so close to questioning my salvation.

As we walked to our cars, I decided that the Christian thing would be to forgive that little truant for his scare and wish his tooth stay in place………so I did

Chopsticks Restaurant is located at No.66 Mississippi Street Maitama, Ministers Hill, Abuja

Sidenote: For the record, Beyonce can turn it around and become a good actress though at 30 I don’t see it for her, Ice Prince might actually become a very good lyricist and MC but that actually takes talent, and Bankole Wellington I believe can actually sing in more than one range once he wins the battle with gravity and balances the weight of his head, however there are no noodles, narcotic, brain-washing, indoctrination that can make Goodluck Jonathan an inspired leader and President.

Disclaimer: This is all good-natured ribbing, while I do still stand by some of my criticisms the artistes above are all successful and I respect their hustle, (in short dem hold pass me so make I comport). I said artistes and not President, I do not withdraw my statements in his regard.

God bless you, eat an apple and give to the less privileged, Louie Armstrong in the sky or not, every day is another opportunity to show kindness.

Sea Creatures and Not so Foreign Places

Seeing as we are still in the early weeks of the New Year, here’s to wishing all my CE regulars and enthusiasts good tidings in the year ahead. I imagine there are better ways to start 2012 than the malevolence of Pontius Pilate (read: President Jonathan) or the incessant threats of the ever efficient Boko Haram, this however is not a political page and while I have very strong opinions on the state of the nation, these trying times help to re-emphasis the simple things, one of which to me is the wonders of food. Yes, food. For those of you new to this page, I do believe good food can end wars, can stop global warming and heal all manners of ills. Boko Haram really needs to eat well.

For many the New Year will represent new beginnings, some will choose to take on new commitment, some will choose to re-evaluate their lives, job, relationships, some will take on projects, the New Year always offers a chance of rebirth, and it seems that the fine City of Abuja has gotten the memo. Without my knowledge the town seems to have sprung up new dining establishments, and I looked forward to sharing many consummate experiences with you there.


At any rate, the Consummate Experience is brought to you by an older Abuja establishment, L’etoile in the Maitaima District of Abuja. Like so many other experiences, the decision to dine out was completely on a whim. In the company of my colleagues, Onyinye and Sheph, CE regulars and two other ladies, Michelle and Hayley, driving aimlessly around town, the conversation had been locating a decent place to get fries, after several u-turns and right lefts and wrong rights we arrived at L’Etoile.


L’Etoile is one of those quintessential Abuja restaurants, like Wakkis and Chopsticks that everyone seems to have gone to as the complete Abuja resident, much like my dinner at Wakkis, this would be another rite of passage for me, and after my delightful experience at Victor’s house, I was looking forward to another evening with French Cuisine.


L’Etoile after all is the French word for “The Star”, and I looked forward to the food making me see lights. I should have known something was amiss when I stepped into the restaurant, despite the very welcoming mini-fountain at the entrance, the hue of the lighting and the dull interior most reminded me of another Consummate Experience, Arabian Nights in the Capital.


The feel was at once Middle-Eastern, but the name though………we were shown to our tables and I didn’t like the furniture any more than the interior of the place. I asked for a menu just to be sure that I wasn’t misplacing the feeling of fraud that was becoming enveloping. In the interlude, I cast an eye round the room, and once I saw it, the matter was settled. I was not going to be having a Consummate Experience this evening.


Restaurants that aren’t Quick Service in nature have got to quit putting visible drink coolers as part of the design; anywhere with a fancy French name no matter how misguiding should never have a drinks cooler in the dining space!!! As soon as my eyes settled on it, I was thrown off, what was the interior decorator or the owner thinking, that if they printed beer on the menu the patrons wouldn’t believe them, or perhaps it was a sub-conscious compensation, after all Patrons had walked in to expect French cuisine and were met with something else, from there on in, everything else had to be transparent, literally!


After my quiet storm had passed, the menu was presented to me, and as I suspected, I didn’t even find a croissant on the menu, not a single baguette. The menu was decidedly middle-eastern and continental. The deceit was now complete, now all I had to do was locate Judas and the thirty pieces of silver. Judas never came, and the waiter searched my face for any signs of life or interest. I settled on the Calamari dish, as I have always been partial to deep fried squid and ordered a cocktail, anything to avoid the transparent drinks cooler.


Closer to the entrance, a saxophonist and his band tested their equipment, apparently that night was going to be a Jazz-themed night (Wedsnesday), I recognised the Saxophonist from a Wine-Tasting session I had participated in, I looked around the table for Michelle whom I remembered had taken a shining to the instrumentalist at the Wine-tasting session, it suddenly dawned on me that the u-turns and misdirection might have been deliberate. She grinned slyly.


The conversation quickly turned to the Federal Republic of Nigeria; Hayley was visiting from England and we all took turns introducing her to our Version of Nigeria, at certain points we had to restrain the vitriol as the horror was clearly beginning to register on her face. In turn she baited us with sunnier climes, white sands, coconut, and the semi-clad Rihanna from her native Barbados.


The food arrived shortly after, and this time what was advertised was delivered, calamari with fries. I leered at the food for a fashion before I decided; I would forgive all other indiscretions and have this meal. The table was littered with chicken, fish and steak dishes, and the report reaching me was that the food wasn’t half bad. On that report I stuffed my face with two rings of Calamari and while I didn’t see the sun, the moon and the stars, the chef had managed to redeem what was left of my evening.


My childhood memories of Calamari are huge rings of deeply battered spongy circles of…. of…..New Year- that feeling you can only get in the moments that you are especially grateful for life and health, like crossing over to a New Year or adding a Year- ……..of rebirth. Perhaps I am now looking back at it through the lenses of childhood nostalgia, and no other Calamari dish will ever measure up, whatever the case, the chef didn’t give me rebirth or New Year’s on a plate, he did however satisfy my curiosity. The fries the dish came with, did what they were supposed to do, much like taking your cousin to the Prom, they were useful.


My attention was soon drawn to the stage, where Kehinde G (I don’t remember what his real name is) was blowing a tornado through his instrument, it was engaging. At that moment, he was taking on a classic, George Michael’s Careless Whispers, on stage with him he had a female accompanying singer and that’s where it got interesting. I would have never noticed her fashion faux pas had I not been on the table with 4 women, a fact that only dawned on me when all other male diners kept looking at our table, and since I know they weren’t checking for 14 years, it was the women they were checking for.


Apparently the songstress was wearing polka dots with strips and nude leggings, from the summary of the conversation from the girls; she was a cross between a circus clown and a zebra crossing. I was more taken with her attempts at sounding American when clearly she wasn’t; it was hilarious especially as she kept prancing round in her outfit. She had a very promising future in Nollywood or a Pentecostal church.


We finished the meal and the bill arrived, all N16, 800.00 of it, it was settled and we made our exit to a warm Abuja night, as we located the car I summed up all Mid-Eastern countries that spoke French and tried to compensate for my disappointment, but that drink cooler though……….


L’Etoile is located at No. 10 Nile Street, Maitaima District, Abuja and can be reached on +234 80 242 36562 and emailed on letoilerest_2@yahoo.com or on their facebook page here.


Sidenote: I encourage you all to go out and discover the city more, dine out a bit more, have your own consummate experiences, and on something completely unrelated, Jade Aladewolu, you will always be the best way to start any year. I love you and thank you for every year that you tolerate me.