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.

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.