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,
- 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.
- 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!!!!!!)
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.
