Oya Come Chop
While I write a lot about food, it’s not often that I get to try something truly different. A few weeks ago though, this was set to change. I was invited to Oya Come Chop. “Oya Come Chop” is Nigerian Pidgin English, which roughly translates to “Now let us eat”. And eat I would. I was duly warned, too. The invitation read “No-one leaves a Nigerian kitchen without a full stomach and heart.”
Arriving alone at the supper club venue at The Engine Room in Tottenham Hale, I was a little nervous. I didn’t know anyone and I didn’t recognise any of the items on the menu. A glass of cloudy palm wine soon set my taste buds tingling with its unusual sour, yet tasty, tang and I couldn’t resist returning to the crunchy plantain crisps, in both spicy and plain variations. As the room filled, the hum of chatter began, and soon I was talking to friends, both new and a few I’d met before.
Soon we were guided into the main dining room, ready to sample Chef Tokunbo’s dishes. But first, we had to find our assigned seats, and meet our table-mates. That’s where the real fun began. Food is always a good talking point, so even sitting with strangers, the conversation flowed. We sipped on Wonjo, a sweet hibiscus drink, and dived straight into the delicately spiced Nigerian pasties on the table, while Tokunbo welcomed us and explained the tables – all named after, for me, unfamiliar districts. It wasn’t hard to understand the sentiments though, with whoops, cheers and laughter all round.
Our starter was a pepper soup, with oxtail, goat and tripe (butternut squash soup for the veggies). I was surprised to find that the pepper was pepper. Black pepper. In my head, I was expecting capsicum peppers. The soup was one of those ones that starts with a slow burn and gets hotter all the way down. It was too delicious to stop though, so I made it to within a whisker of the bottom of the bowl. It’s lucky I skipped lunch. I was going to need all of that empty stomach space.
Before the main course, we flipped over cards on each seating space to find names, shuffling to different tables in search of our own names in a nifty trick that doubled the number of people we met. With our new table-mates, we tucked in to shared plates of Efo Riro, a vegetable stew with assorted meat, and for the vegans and veggies, Egusi, a pumpkin seed stew. Sitting across from a vegetarian, I was fortunate enough to try both. These were served with balls of pounded yam or rice. Wanting the full Nigerian experience, I opted for the yam, which looked like a ball of beige play dough and had a similar consistency, but tasted like mashed potato.
Taking lessons from the table, I dug in African style, discarding my cutlery in favour of fingers and scooping balls of yam and stew into my mouth. The two stews were delicious, and quite different from each other, so I was glad I could sample both. I did my best, but there was no way I could polish off the generous ball of yam. Dessert was still to come.
Aware of the filling nature of her food, Tokunbo dished up light mango and pineapple sorbets for dessert. The icy treat was smooth and refreshing, just what was needed to cleanse the palate and round out the meal.
My verdict on my first Nigerian food experience? Oya come chop again!
If you’d like to try Nigerian food in London, check out Tokunbo’s Kitchen on Facebook: facebook.com/tokunboskitchen
Arriving alone at the supper club venue at The Engine Room in Tottenham Hale, I was a little nervous. I didn’t know anyone and I didn’t recognise any of the items on the menu. A glass of cloudy palm wine soon set my taste buds tingling with its unusual sour, yet tasty, tang and I couldn’t resist returning to the crunchy plantain crisps, in both spicy and plain variations. As the room filled, the hum of chatter began, and soon I was talking to friends, both new and a few I’d met before.
Soon we were guided into the main dining room, ready to sample Chef Tokunbo’s dishes. But first, we had to find our assigned seats, and meet our table-mates. That’s where the real fun began. Food is always a good talking point, so even sitting with strangers, the conversation flowed. We sipped on Wonjo, a sweet hibiscus drink, and dived straight into the delicately spiced Nigerian pasties on the table, while Tokunbo welcomed us and explained the tables – all named after, for me, unfamiliar districts. It wasn’t hard to understand the sentiments though, with whoops, cheers and laughter all round.
Our starter was a pepper soup, with oxtail, goat and tripe (butternut squash soup for the veggies). I was surprised to find that the pepper was pepper. Black pepper. In my head, I was expecting capsicum peppers. The soup was one of those ones that starts with a slow burn and gets hotter all the way down. It was too delicious to stop though, so I made it to within a whisker of the bottom of the bowl. It’s lucky I skipped lunch. I was going to need all of that empty stomach space.
Before the main course, we flipped over cards on each seating space to find names, shuffling to different tables in search of our own names in a nifty trick that doubled the number of people we met. With our new table-mates, we tucked in to shared plates of Efo Riro, a vegetable stew with assorted meat, and for the vegans and veggies, Egusi, a pumpkin seed stew. Sitting across from a vegetarian, I was fortunate enough to try both. These were served with balls of pounded yam or rice. Wanting the full Nigerian experience, I opted for the yam, which looked like a ball of beige play dough and had a similar consistency, but tasted like mashed potato.
Taking lessons from the table, I dug in African style, discarding my cutlery in favour of fingers and scooping balls of yam and stew into my mouth. The two stews were delicious, and quite different from each other, so I was glad I could sample both. I did my best, but there was no way I could polish off the generous ball of yam. Dessert was still to come.
Aware of the filling nature of her food, Tokunbo dished up light mango and pineapple sorbets for dessert. The icy treat was smooth and refreshing, just what was needed to cleanse the palate and round out the meal.
My verdict on my first Nigerian food experience? Oya come chop again!
If you’d like to try Nigerian food in London, check out Tokunbo’s Kitchen on Facebook: facebook.com/tokunboskitchen