Two grandmothers, two kitchens
How the jollof rice in Lagos and the arroz de pato in Lisbon taught me the same thing, said differently.
Amara Okonkwo
Writer & photographer
Cover: Land O'Lakes, Inc. / Unsplash
My Nigerian grandmother measures salt in the palm of her hand. My Portuguese grandmother measures salt in the palm of her hand too. This is the first thing anyone should know about grandmothers.
The two kitchens
In Surulere the kitchen faces the yard; in Alfama it faces the light well. In both, the pot on the back burner has been simmering longer than any child in the house has been alive.
A recipe is a set of instructions written by someone who has already forgotten how they cook.
I have eaten jollof at every wedding I have been invited to for a decade. I have eaten arroz de pato in restaurants that charge €48 for it. None of it comes close to a Tuesday afternoon, standing in a doorway, being told to taste this and tell me what it needs.
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