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Recettes
Parcourez les archives par pays, par plat et par temps de cuisson.
Pepper soup runs across West Africa and each country handles it differently. The Ivorian version is distinguished by what happens to the vegetables: whole tomato, onion and aubergine go into the pot with the meat and the spices, cook until soft, are lifted out and crushed, and then go back into the broth. That produces a thicker, more textured soup than the clear Nigerian version.
The aubergine is the marker. It breaks down into the broth and gives it body, which is not something the Nigerian pepper soups do, and it is what makes the Ivorian version recognisable. Goat is the usual meat, though the dish takes fish, shrimp, tripe, oxtail, chicken and beef equally well, and several can go in the same pot.
It occupies the same place in Ivorian life that pepper soup occupies elsewhere in the region: it is what people eat when they are cold, unwell or want something restorative, and it is quick enough for a weeknight at under an hour. It is served with foutou banane, the pounded plantain, or with rice. The heat is adjustable and Ivorians say so openly, though the authentic version is very hot indeed.
Cassava leaf soup is eaten across West and Central Africa, and its names map the geography: saka saka and pondu in the Congo basin, and simply cassava leaf in Liberia, Sierra Leone and Guinea. Wherever cassava is grown for its root, the leaves are eaten too, and a great many countries have arrived at some version of this independently.
The West African version this recipe follows is built on groundnut. Peanut butter goes in with the leaves and palm oil, which gives a thicker, richer, nuttier result than the Central African versions that lean on palm oil alone. Smoked turkey, fish or chicken supplies the savoury depth, and scotch bonnet supplies the heat.
The leaves themselves carry very little flavour, which is precisely why the dish works: they absorb whatever they are cooked with, so the palm oil, the groundnut and the smoked protein are doing all the talking. That also means the quality of those three decides the pot. It is served over rice, and the one non negotiable is cooking: cassava leaves must be thoroughly cooked, since they are not safe raw. Frozen leaves sold commercially have generally been blanched already, which is why this version cooks relatively briefly.
Otong soup is the Efik okra soup of Cross River State in south eastern Nigeria, and what separates it from every other okra soup in the country is the pairing of two vegetables rather than one. Okra provides the draw; ikong ubong, the pumpkin leaf known elsewhere as ugwu, provides the body and the green. Uziza leaf goes in for aroma.
Okra soup is made across Nigeria and the names shift with the language: ila asepo among the Yoruba, okwuru among the Igbo, miyan kubewa in Hausa, and otong among the Efik. Each has its own emphasis, and the two vegetable combination is what marks this one as Efik rather than anything else.
The technique is short and the timing is unforgiving. Okra goes in near the end, the pot is never covered after that point, and the soup comes off the heat while the okra is still green and resilient, because the retained heat keeps cooking it for another couple of minutes. Covered or overcooked, okra goes brown and loses its texture entirely. The Efik version is generous with seafood, taking in prawns, crab, mussels and smoked catfish alongside the assorted meat, which reflects a state built around water. It is eaten with ayan ekpang, the grated steamed cocoyam, or with any swallow.
Abom, written abomu here, is the simpler of the two main Ghanaian cocoyam leaf preparations. Where the tomato based kontomire stew is thickened with ground melon seed and cooked in a pot, abom is steamed leaves ground in an asanka with onion, pepper and ginger, finished with hot palm oil poured over the top. It is closer to a relish than to a stew.
The asanka is the tool that defines it. The ridged earthenware bowl grinds rather than purees, and everything in an abom passes through it: the aromatics first, then the salted fish, then the greens, each stage mashed into the last. That produces a coarse, uneven texture that a blender cannot reproduce and that Ghanaians would notice immediately.
It is Asante food particularly, and it is assembled rather than cooked in the ordinary sense. Plantain, egg, avocado and several kinds of fish, koobi, kakro, smoked mackerel and smoked turkey, go onto the plate around the greens, and hot palm oil is ladled over at the end. Kontomire is the proper leaf. Ghanaians abroad substitute spinach, which the source acknowledges directly, and the result is milder and softer than the cocoyam leaf gives.