For Bread Alone

For my birthday last year, recognizing my preoccupation with all things related to my stomach, my ever-so-thoughtful roommate Jenny gave me a book about the joys of cooking and eating. Featuring essays from a selection of well-known authors about why they enjoyed eating well, it was entitled "Not for Bread Alone."

I'm afraid, however, that it was indeed for bread alone that I made my first trip outside of Ghana. With the excuse of having a visitor from the States, my fellow Fulbrighter Jen, her cousin and I hopped on the overnight bus to Togo - or, more properly, the Ghanaian border town of Aflao, where we went through the people-chute that is customs and arrived excitedly on the other side of the big "Akwaaba!" sign to find that Togo looked disappointingly similar to Ghana.*

Except for one key difference. Instead of the white, fluffy tasteless foam that Ghanaian bread-sellers carry around on their heads and offer to slather with questionable margarine, Togolese porters were instead carrying basins of crusty loaves paired with avocado, onion, and tomatoes. The first thing I did upon arrival was to buy a loaf. (The second thing was to buy another loaf.)

Don't get me wrong: Ghanaian bread is good for some very particular things, such as stopping a runny tummy or serving as an impromptu pillow when staying at a cheap guesthouse. But the French did the Togolese a service (amongst many disservices, clearly) when they introduced French-style bread. The culinary differences don't stop there: in response to Ghana's neighborhood chop bars, the Togolese offer the maquis, which line the wide boulevards of central Lome. We chose to eat lunch at one, where I enjoyed another loaf of French bread and a street-side salad with beets and carrots - another novelty for us Ghana residents.

Despite my tone so far, however - and in contrast to many Obruni visitors - I don't dislike Ghanaian food. In fact, it's refreshing to eat in Ghana, where you can often see the tree where your plantains originated and where the links between farm and plate (or plastic bag) are still clearly visible. Sometimes these connections are less appetizing than you would like (do you know where your chicken has been?) but you can be sure that nearly everything you consume will be locally-sourced and relatively fresh, or as fresh as it can be in a tropical climate with little refrigeration. (The soups are so thoroughly boiled that they kill off any bacteria anyway.)

When "locally raised" loses its appeal: in the gutter in front of our house

Since I've been meaning to write a post on Ghanaian food, I thought I'd introduce some of my favorites. There are much more comprehensive and articulate sites on Ghanaian cuisine, but I'll give you the quick-and-tasty. Most Ghanaian dishes feature a soup or stew paired with a starch - rice, beans, fermented corn, plantain, yam, or cassava. Many dishes combine several of the starches, such as plantain and cassava in fufu, a glutinous ball of dough especially popular in the Ashanti Region. The soups combine tomatoes with garlic, onions, and local vegetables (cocoyam leaves, eggplants, or okra) and peanut paste or palm oil. They are inevitably spicy, but vary along a spectrum from mildly piquant to empty-your-water-sachet-in-one-gulp hot.

My favorite combination is nkatenkwan, or peanut soup, with emu tuo, or mashed rice balls.

My favorite non-soup dish is waakye. Although only a seemingly simple combination of brown rice and beans, it is delicious when paired with the traditional accompaniments: shito, a spicy paste made of dried fish, ginger, and garlic; gari, or grated cassava; and tomato stew.

The picture below doesn't really do it justice, but another favorite is etoo, a combination of roasted, mashed sweet plantain, hot pepper, and ground peanuts, usually eaten with avocado and freshly roasted peanuts. My host family makes fun of me for eating it so often because it's considered a "village food," suitable mostly for farmers who want to fill their stomach in the morning before they go off to the fields for the day.

Another non-soup and also "non-native" food - so called because the main ingredient, refined white rice, is not produced in Ghana - is jollof rice, a spicy tomato dish mixed with pieces of meat and vegetables. It's usually accompanied by salad and served as an "occasional food" (because it's so expensive) at special festivities like my Auntie's New Year's party (although not exclusively: it's also available at many roadside eateries).

Where do I eat all these delicious-looking meals? I am lucky enough to live with an Auntie who's an excellent cook; I often enjoy the leftovers from her on-the-side catering business. But when I can't make it home for lunchtime, I do as most Ghanaians do, and visit a local food kioask, or "chop bar." Scattered (sometimes seemingly indiscriminately) around every town and ranging from single-dish plywood booths to full-service restaurants, these eateries serve local staples in the portion size of your choice, measured by how much you want to pay. You depart with your food wrapped handily in a series of plastic bags, like a set of polythene Russian dolls that serve as insurance against any soupy accidents. If I'm lucky enough, however, lunch even comes to me, via head porters who carry around particular foods - etoo, steamed corn, fried rice, and various fruits and nuts - in giant aluminum bowls balanced precariously on their noggins. At first their mysterious offerings were a source of great curiosity for me, but as I've gradually learned to distinguish between different forms (and quality) of street food, I've become a more discerning customer.

Finally, because it's a low-hanging fruit and I couldn't resist, you can try Pee Cola if you ever find yourself in Ghana's Brong-Ahafo Region. (I've only seen this soda once, and I owe it to Lucy for priming me to be on the lookout...)

Bon moire!

P.S. In case you distrust my characterization of Ghanaian food as delicious, you can cross-check with my father. Frustrated by my lack of posting, he took matters into his own hands last week and came to visit me in Ghana. (Travel and See!) You can find his pictures (none of the many meals we ate, alas) on facebook.

*The Ghana-Togo border runs through the former area of Togoland, a German protectorate that encompassed much of the traditional area of the closely-related Ewe and Mina tribes. Officially separated since a referendum in 1956, residents of Togo and Ghana's Volta Region continue to speak similar languages and share customs. I'll spare you the discussion on the impacts of culinary colonialism and the simultaneous determinism and triviality of borders...