Growing up, we began to behave ourselves towards Saturday. It was the naughtiest child that bore the ill luck of escorting my mother to Otto/oyinbo market. After all those years and having to go to that same market myself,my feelings have not changed,neither has the potopoto dried up. So yes, everytime I have to buy foodstuff in bulk,It is destination Otto and wearing the most tacky footwear I have.
Growing up, I ate a good portion of my ingredients while cooking. You should have seen the plantain I fried, you would always hear my mom
Mom: Chioma, that is bad habit.
So I made up my mind to leave her ingredients and eat my own with freedom when I move into my husband house. But see today
Me: Aboki how much?
That small basket of dry fish!
I have finished cooking my pot of soup and I realise now that perhaps,most women want to eat some of their dried fish before it enters the pot,but what shall it ‘profit’ you?
Change and civilisation is something that people adapt to relatively. I choose how modern I want to get. A few days ago, some of my friends didnt understand why I would not fry my fish with a deep fryer. I absolutely refuse to.But this afternoon, I boiled my cocoyams,ditched my mortar and put my blender to work. The smooth milky result always gives me an immense feel of pleasure, reminding me of the thrill I felt that afternoon of discovery when I couldnt find my pestle and thought of my blender. Does my mother blend her cocoyams? No,because there is to her,this thing about pounding it. I do not blend my pepper, I just for no reason prefer to pound it but I cant bear to resort to that poundo yam they sell in the stores because for me there is just this thing about pounding my yam!
So you see, we all make our culinary choices…heck, my maid of honor prefers firewood cooked jollofrice over the gas cooker prepared one. What matters the most at the end of the day is
a) that you wash your potopoto stained feet in dettol-ed water
b) that you pick all the dried fish you want in the soup before Stanley (and even the meat)
c) that your man eats his fufu with almost ten fingers and makes that phonecall to your father he always makes following a mind blowing meal
Stanley: Oramadike, I want to pay more bride price on this girl’s head!
You smile with pride,maybe escorting mommy to Otto and watching keenly thereafter in the kitchen wasn’t bad afterall.
First posted to facebook: October 5.2013