Jollof Rice Ghana Mga Nobela at Kwento

I finally snapped out of my dirty thoughts when she hit two cooking spoons together. "What is it?" "You have been staring at me for minutes now. I said go in and get some rest, I'll let you know when the food is ready. I'm making Jollof Rice. It's a famous dish in Nigeria," she smiled. "You are so beautiful, darling. I have no idea why, but the sight of you in our kitchen with your hair up, that tight top hugging your breasts and those jeans hugging your nice butt and full hips, it has me turned on. I just want you, why don't we skip the food for now and take this to to bedroom?" I suggested.

“Jollof rice. You’ve been eating airport snacks and training camp meals for two weeks. I figured you’d want something real.” “I could marry you right now,” Greg said, placing a kiss on her temple. She smirked. “Eat first. Propose later.” Scene – Dining Table She served him a steaming plate of jollof rice, with fried plantains on the side and grilled chicken perfectly seasoned. A chilled glass of pineapple juice sat beside it. Greg took one bite and let out a groan. “This—this is sorcery.” Helena laughed from across the table, already halfway through her own plate. “It’s survival. You think I got through Brentford without knowing how to cook my way through heartbreak and exams?”

Jade, fascinated by the place even before she was served crammed the name of the place - Sogo Emporium, and made a mental note to frequent it. They ate peppery jollof rice served with equally peppery but well spiced chicken, with fried plantains which Jade thought a bit burnt, and carrots and sweet corn to garnish it. She noticed that Ricky glanced at her more often, and smiled at Esmeralda, giving her more plantains when he noticed she liked it, and eating the carrots she passed over for sweet corn in her plate.

He replied and Selena was left with her thoughts… ★ “Ahh...It smells really nice," I gasped, inhaling the sweet aroma that came from the pot and Madam Yesenia smiled. ”It tastes even better," she replied, causing me to be more excited. ”What dish is this?" I asked as I haven't smelled such aroma before in my entire life. “It's an African dish known as jollof rice. I learnt to make this when I visited Nigeria," she answered and I was amazed. “You have been to Africa?!" I asked, excitedly as I myself have never been there but have heard a lot of stories about the continent.

Awesome combination coming up --- Jollof rice and football. Elza came out of the kitchen and I bent my neck for her to plant a kiss on my cheeks, but she went for my lips instead. Someone was in a good mood, I just might get lucky tonight. "Hi, honey!" She beamed, and sat down beside me. We made small talk as Stacey waltzed in, juggling three plates in her hands. She handed one to each of us and skipped back to the kitchen to get her's. We all dug into our spicy jollof rice and chicken and it was even better than I remembered.

I wait until his grasp loosened and sit down. "Well, I’m here because I wanted to give you some of my homemade food. Vittorio is fine. Nathanial is at the daycare. I want to catch up with you, and I have almost completed my new book." I stand up to give them my homemade jollof rice. A sense of pride washes over me as their faces beam when they see the rice. Everyone loves my homemade jollof rice. The ingredient that puts it all together is a hint of paprika. When they are eating, I start remembering what happened around two years ago while I was pregnant.

The argument had gone on for several hours, until they reached an agreement that their relatives would prepare the food on the wedding day, while the caterer would take care of the dinner. Even from her bedroom window, Afrah could smell the numerous spices wafting up into the air from downstairs. She could smell the curry, mixed with the unmistakable scents of turmeric, nutmeg, thyme, parsley, oregano and garlic. They were cooking Jollof rice, and a quick glance down the window showed the enticing reddish shade of the food being turned in the enormous pots by the expert hands of her aunts. Afrah spied a girl standing beside them with a small bucketload of peas, ready to dump them into the ri

“Alright. Thank you Hilda.” We sat down and gave the waiter our orders. Small chops for starters because I was craving that, and then I ordered some grape wine. I didn’t need alcohol, Kola had no qualms taking alcohol since he was going straight home and not to work like me. For my mains I ordered the native jollof pasta. Hilda was the best at preparing that and I wanted it so bad. “So what’s up with you man. How is work going without me?” Kola asked.

To Rachael's mum, Kevin, Andrew, Joy were those friends she trusted with her child. "Yeah. That day will continue to be in history, in our memories," Kevin stated as he handed the tray to Rachael. Rachael's stomach grumbled as she gently collected the tray containing a cup of milk and a plate of Jollof rice Kevin prepared. This she knew because Kevin had a thing for Africans as a whole. Sometimes he dresses or cooks African dishes. "Wow, another African dish," Rachael smiled, seeing the orange-colored rice. "Yep, I made it with long grain rice, tomatoes, onions, spices, vegetables, and some other bunch of stuff,"

she said. I dumped my bag by the coffee table and Mala handed me the warming plate of plantains and Nigerian jollof rice, my absolute favorite and the best jolliof in Africa. I took a bite, I chewed the plantain mixing it with the joliof rice and swallowed, it tasted delicious as usual. Then I pressed my free hand against the small of my back. “Hey, where’s my apron?” Mala gave me a bewildered glance, she put the food down and shrugged: “Kitchen aprons don’t match night gowns. Also I’m not happy seeing you walk around in nothing but Chanel and doubt.”