Jollof Rice Ghana Novels & Stories

"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.

But when done right, it's absolutely delicious. I walked around the room, taking in their curious faces. "Now, who knows what jollof pasta is?" Edward raised his hand hesitantly. "Is it pasta fried in lots of tomato based sauce similar to that of jollof rice?" "Ding, ding, ding! That's correct," I said, nodding. "It is a classic Zakorian dish and very easy to make. But I had never made it before yesterday and needed to practice before I surprised the queen. So, will you help me?"

The door swishes open and in comes a slightly heavy set fair skinned woman, she's Yoruba, cooks food for small occasions like this one. "Hello ma'am." She smiles at me and hands me the full bag, when I take it, my hand drops, the bag is heavy. I thank her and pay her balance and watch the elevator doors slide shut behind her. When I get back to the kitchen, I set out big foil plates covered with cling film platters of Jollof, fried rice, and pepper soup. I turn each into a microwavable plate and put the pepper soup in the microwave to get hot again in time for the Eid prayers goers to return.

I did not know what exact food they served me, but I knew it is something African related. “Kalisha? What is on my plate?” I asks, whispering to not disturb the others. She looks at my plate to get a better look. “The one with the fried goat meat and peppers is Asun. The miniature cake is Akara. The red looking rice is Jollof. Lastly, the soup you have is Ewedu. These are some popular foods that the Yoruba Tribe eat. You will love it, just try them.” She explains to me. I witness the guests eating, the couple are using utensils while the queens are eating with their hands. Kalisha is eating with her hands as well. So I decide to do the same, while I start talking to her.

Crazy pictures. The night was fun as we all awaits for morning to come. ***** Very early the next morning, women could be heard chattering away and cooking the orange colored rice– they call Jollof rice, outside. Different aroma of spices filled the air alongside with smokes since they were cooking with firewood. I was happy, I couldn't wait to get married. Cookie did my makeup as promised. I was dressed on green and white with beautiful beads to bring out the beauty of my outfit.

The smell of real wealth hit me first, that clean rich scent, then the spicy aroma of food cooking on the stove. “What are you making?” I asked, sliding onto one of the tall stools at the island, my legs already trembling a little. “Trying a new recipe I saw online,” he said, chopping vegetables with those strong, precise hands. “They call it Jollof rice. I believe it’s from Nigeria in Africa. Almost done.”

Kristina finally asked the questions in my heart, “We have no idea. Although some say his father is trying to build a brand here so he's kind of preparing the place for him.” “Hmm…” I took a breath, “so, he's brooding this place.” “Something of that sort,” my mother replied, returning her attention back to the good in hand. I watched as she mixed the food in the pot. “Is that what I think it is?” I asked, with widened eyes. My mother smiled, giving me more space to look into the pot. “Is that jollof?” I asked, smiling. “Nigerian jollof.” “Oh wow,” I gasped.

''Shut up! Alex laughed, and Ethan couldn’t help but smile. ''Just go get the plates.'' He said, shaking his head. Alex brought the plates and set them down with a casual flourish, expecting something simple. But when Ethan opened the lunch boxes, a wave of rich, smoky aroma filled the room—tomatoes, spices, grilled chicken, and something unmistakably bold. Alex blinked, stunned. ''You made Jollof rice?'' He asked, eyes wide as he leaned in for a closer look.

Nina excuses herself to set the table, moving around the kitchen like a proud chef on a cooking show. “So,” I ask, leaning against the counter, “what did you make, my beautiful chef?” She smiles, mysterious, smug. “Something entirely different. Something you’ve never tasted before.” I narrow my eyes. “And that is?” She clears her throat dramatically. “Jellof rice.” I blink. “Jel… Jel?” “Jollof rice,” she corrects, rolling her eyes. “I found a video on TikTok, an African woman was making it. I liked it, practiced it, and voilà.”

“Elliot did not decline. So James should be allowed the time the food requires.” Vivienne looked at the kitchen doorway. “He bought ingredients from four different places this morning. Produce from one shop, proteins from another, and apparently only one specific market on the east side carries the pepper he needs.” She paused. “He is making jollof. Our mother’s recipe. He called her twice while cooking to confirm quantities he had memorized incorrectly.” Something moved through Sera’s chest. Warm and specific and entirely real. She put the documents down and walked to the kitchen doorway and looked in.