Jollof Rice Ghana Novels & Stories

She asked, still chewing the big chunk of rice in her mouth. “ Good morning. I wasn't the one who bought it, Cole got it for me”, I said, taking a bottle of water out of the fridge to drink. “ It is so so nice. I've had Jollof rice before, I think once, but it was no where as good as this one. This is………..gosh, this is heaven”, she took the last bite of suya on the plate, “ and this meat, I don't know what it's called, but I could literally have this everyday for the rest of my life and die with no regrets”, she chewed, her facial expression showing that she was savoring the flavor.

She yelled toward the kitchen once again. “No turkey!” I rolled my eyes and sighed. I was too hungry for all this, “Just tell me what you have,” I said through gritted teeth. “Smart,” she muttered under her breath. “Excuse me?” I cocked my head to the side. She cleared her throat and spoke up. “We have jollof rice, fried rice, beef, snails, peppered gizzard and fish.” “Only?” I couldn’t help but ask. “Yes, some of our dishes aren’t ready yet unless you want to wait till they are done?”

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."

--- *7:00 PM – Destiny’s Apartment* Destiny had dinner ready and the TV off. That alone told Elma how serious this was. Normally the TV was on, low volume, playing reruns while they talked. The apartment smelled like thyme and garlic. Destiny had learned to cook jollof the way Elma liked it—not too spicy, extra onions. “So how was the big debut?” Destiny asked, pushing a plate of jollof rice and grilled chicken toward her. “Quiet,” Elma said, sitting down.

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.