Jollof Love

8 - Culinary Slamdown

"But how?" Nini could not believe her eyes.

"I said don't worry," Dara told her. "Is it not I, Oluwadarasimi? I know people na, it's just a matter of double tapping? That's all."

"But Dara...," Nini began again.

"Just let it be. Let us take pictures in this area, it's fine oo. Ah, Nini, you look takeaway! Omo to rewa. Ore mi Agbani Darego," Dara praised her friend. "Oya, stand by the swing. Let me take your pictures and then you'll take mine. Okay?"

"It's not a swing. It's a hanging swing chair," Nini corrected.

"It's sha swinging. Please, let's take pictures, ebi m pami," Dara complained of being hungry.

So Nini stood, all smiles and cheese, as Dara took pictures of her. Once done, the both of them walked through an entrance framed by an archway entwined with delicate vines. In the surroundings, there were plants everywhere with vibrant green leaves that made Nini wonder if they were real or fake. Blooming flowers lined the stone pathway that lead to the glass entrance of the restaurant.

Inside, they were greeted by a spacious dining area that continued the nature-inspired theme. The ceiling was adorned with hanging baskets of flowers and trailing vines, while strategically placed skylights offered glimpses of the blue sky. Soft ambient lighting added to the cozy ambiance, while subtle sounds of chirping birds and rustling leaves filled the air, and Nini was impressed.

They were served quickly, plates of different varieties of meals before them. From pasta with meatballs, to Beef Wellington, to spiced fishes to Basmati rice pilaf to sauces of different kinds.

Dara looked unsurely at all of the meals, spoon in hand.

"Ah, I just ordered what sounded familiar off the menu oo," Dara said. "All these ones that are looking like Chinese food. Abi we should have gone to eat Amala and gbegiri jeje?"

Nini shook her head. "I don't like gbegiri, and besides. Let's try it first."

She scooped the rice, and her taste buds were not ready for the surprise. The flavours caressed her tongue, and it's texture, soft and tender, was like a graceful embrace. Notes of warmth, spice, and subtle hints tingled at her tongue, and somewhere, a nutty undertone hid like a hidden treasure.

It was like taking a trip down a Morrocan marketplace, or that was how she imagined that part of Africa to smell like, with air perfumed with a symphony of spices.

"Beautiful," Nini said.

Dara frowned. "Me I just want stew. They put curry in this sauce oo." She peered at the thin film of oil over one of the sauces. "And thyme, abi what is this?"

"Eat first," Nini said.

Dara used her spoon to scoop the stew atop her meal, and with a fork, she hesitantly put it in her mouth. Her eyes widened, and she nodded before she took another forkful.

"Savour it as you eat," Nini laughed.

"Wo, leave me," Dara said.

It was then the doors of the restaurant opened, and when three guys stepped in, Nini knew Dara would be at alert. One of them, a plus-sized young man holding up a camera and recording, another with long braids and a calm face, and the last, the tallest among them, had his face cap drawn too close to his eyes his entire face was a shadow.

Dara tapped Nini's arm several times. "See fine boys!"

"Dara, please no." Nini begged.

And when they sat at the table directly behind them, Nini hoped Dara would behave herself during the meal.