Jollof Rice Ghana Novels & Stories

He handed me the plate he had prepared, his hands steady and warm. I glanced down at the breakfast he had made for me. At the center of the plate was the reason for the delightful aroma. Jollof rice. The bright orange hue and the slices of fried plantains next to the rice made my mouth water with anticipation. “Nothing is on my mind,” I told him, immediately reaching for the spoon so I could take a bite. Edmond prided himself in his cooking. If I distracted him long enough with commentary about jollof rice, he would let it slide. I took a generous amount of the perfectly good grains coated with pepper and spices. It was overwhelming for breakfast but that was just what I needed to get over t

“How's that going?” “Terrible,” she admitted, laughing. “But I tried to get one dish right, and I want you to taste it.” I stood on my feet this time, snapped up my keys almost without thinking. “On my way,” I said, heading out. Rhys glanced after me, confusion on his face. “Where are you off to, man?” I waved him off, leaving the room in a hurry. He would understand. —----------------------------------------- I got there in time. She had served me a Nigerian dish called jollof rice. I sat with my hands on the table and watched the meal placed in front of me.

She never told her any of those. After they left the room, Rolape took Sindy out of the hostel as it was night. The whole street glowed with people and yellow lights. Boyfriends and girlfriends as well as people queueing up to get bread and fried egg and all sorts of their dinner meals. They got to a restaurant and got a pack of Jollof rice, fried rice and turkey for Sindy while it was a pack of white rice and Ofada stew, sausages for Ro. Rolape had always wanted the stew whenever Sophia bought some. It had always smelled delicious. And now she was going to try it.

The rice, salad, and chicken they served were very delicious. "What did you say this rice is called again?" Rained asked, wide-eyed. "Jollof rice." Vivian supplied with a kind smile. "It's very delicious. Can you give me the recipe you used for it later? I'd really like to learn how to cook it." Vivian smiled a little wider, "I can give you the recipe. Or better still, I can teach you how to cook various kinds of Jollof rice. Learning it first hand is always way better than learning it from books."

She felt the words land somewhere deep in her chest, in the place where she kept all the things she did not let herself feel. "I don't know," she admitted. "I think I forgot what it feels like." Amara, who had been silent through the exchange, reached over and squeezed Zara's hand. "Then we'll remind you," she said brightly. "Starting with dinner. Have you ever had my father's chef's jollof rice? It's the best in Nigeria. I swear it."

It was like nothing I’d ever tasted, and before I knew it, I’d devoured several skewers. “You’re going to get full,” Leonardo warned, laughing as I reached for another. I glanced down, realising I’d already eaten twelve sticks. “Oh my god,” I laughed, clutching my stomach as I wiped my mouth, feeling a little embarrassed. We wandered through other sections, sampling dishes with names I couldn’t pronounce but flavours that felt both exotic and comforting. And then, he ordered two plates of jollof rice, loaded with creamy coleslaw, gizdodo, and slices of caramelised plantain.

Well everyone like jollof rlce in Nigeria, my cooks are so good in cooking jollof rice, I studied her just yesterday and I know she likes food so much. "We would be having a photoshoot today and you will need lots of food to save lots of energy for the shoot" that's not true though,l just said that so that she would eat her food.

she smiled at the assembly of children that looked way to weary to smile back. First, she brought in a bowl of a variety of fruits. First, ripe-looking apples unapologetically mingling with the pears and bananas that courted each other side by side. Then another tray, but unlike the one before it that proudly showcased an okay-looking turkey, this one had bowls of ice-cream, yoghurt and one glass of a chocolate milkshake, flattering the kids at first glance. Lastly, she brought in a cooler of what definitely was the main course. The aroma of perfectly cooked Jollof rice was so persistent, you could almost tell it’s taste through its appeal to your nose.

he said, raising his hands in the air and backing away. Lucas went over to sit with Darren to watch TV. Claire turned and turned, fried, deep-fried, air-fried, boiled. Finally, she was done with cooking. "Voila, I'm done," she said after serving the portion for everyone. "This is a whole feast," Darren said, looking at the table. "Yes, it is. We have deep-fried chicken, chicken soup, deep-fried plantain, boiled pork, ramen, a special Nigerian dish—jollof rice, meatballs, and rice. Everything is here, Darren. Everything."

"Oh, Mom told me that in Africa, two countries drag over who takes the glory of having the better jollof Rice." I nodded. "Interesting. Both their meals must be quite tasty." "Yeah. Ghana and Nigeria always go about arguing. So they both created separate recipes and created different jollof delicacies." I was salivating already. "I would love to visit their countries and be the judge myself." He chuckled. "That can be arranged love." It was like I felt my heart begin to beat faster. He was making promises again. Promises that didn't go unnoticed by me. Oh, what was this man turning me into? It was like he got me in... Hook, line and sinker.