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Recettes
Parcourez les archives par pays, par plat et par temps de cuisson.
Kuli kuli is a peanut snack eaten across Nigeria, Benin, northern Cameroon and Ghana, and it is one of the most widely recognised street foods in West Africa. It is made from peanuts alone, and the technique is what makes it: the oil is deliberately pressed out of the ground paste before the remaining solids are shaped and fried.
That extraction is the point. Removing the oil leaves a dense, dry paste that fries into something genuinely crunchy rather than soft, and it also produces the frying oil as a by-product, so nothing is wasted. It is a piece of processing knowledge that predates industrial oil pressing and is still done by hand in Hausa communities in northern Nigeria, where the snack has its strongest association.
It takes different shapes in different places: small sticks, rings, flat discs and irregular pieces are all standard, and the form varies by region and by seller. English names for it, groundnut cake and peanut snack among them, are approximations rather than translations. Kuli kuli is eaten on its own, mixed into garri with sugar and water, crumbled over salad, or served alongside fura and koko. Crushed to a powder it becomes the peanut component of suya spice, which is where most people outside the region encounter it without knowing.
This is a blended tomato, onion and chilli sauce in the West African style, cooked down in oil and finished with a spice blend, and it is presented here as it appeared in the source archive. It is used as a dip for fried plantain and grilled meat and as a marinade for chicken or fish.
The name needs care. Chale is Ghanaian pidgin, an address between friends roughly equivalent to mate or bro, and it appears in Ghanaian food naming most familiarly in chale wote, the flip flop sandal that gives its name to the Accra street art festival. It is not, on the available record, an established name for a documented Ghanaian sauce, and this may be a contemporary or house name rather than a traditional one.
Ghana's documented pepper sauces are shito, the dark fermented sauce of dried fish, prawn and pepper, and the fresh pepper sauces made with tomato, onion and chilli that accompany kelewele and grilled tilapia. This recipe sits closer to the second group, though the nutmeg and curry powder in its spice list are not characteristic of either. It is included as found, and flagged so the naming can be checked before it goes live.
Catfish is everywhere in Nigeria now, and the reason is farming rather than fishing. Catfish aquaculture expanded enormously across the country from the 1990s onward, at both household and commercial scale, and a fish that was once a river catch became one of the most available proteins in the market. Dishes built around it have multiplied accordingly.
This one is a contemporary Nigerian preparation rather than an inherited dish. Carrot and tomato are blended into a sauce in a three to one ratio, so the carrot rather than the tomato carries it, giving a sweeter and thicker base than a standard Nigerian stew. The fish is marinated, grilled or baked separately, and set into the sauce at the end rather than cooked in it.
Cleaning is the part that determines whether it works. Catfish is naturally slimy and has to be scrubbed with salt, alum, potash or maize chaff, and soaking it briefly in hot water both removes the remaining slime and firms the flesh so it holds together instead of breaking apart. Grilling rather than frying keeps that firmness. It is served with rice, potato or yam.
Shito is Ghana's black pepper sauce, and it is the condiment the country's food is built around. Dried fish, dried shrimp, onion, ginger and a very large quantity of ground pepper are cooked down in oil until the whole thing turns near black and the oil separates and rises. It is intensely savoury, genuinely hot, and used a spoonful at a time.
What makes it structurally interesting is that it keeps. Fried properly, shito lasts weeks or months on a shelf without refrigeration, because the oil seals it and there is almost no water left in it. That is why Ghanaians abroad carry jars of it in luggage and why it is made in large batches rather than small ones.
Its reach across the Ghanaian table is close to total. Waakye, kenkey and banku are barely considered complete without it. Beyond those it goes with jollof, fried rice, braised rice, gari, fried yam, fried plantain, grilled meat and, as the source for this recipe points out, bread. It is the thing that carries Ghanaian food, and the one rule about keeping it matters: only ever take shito out with a clean dry spoon, because a wet spoon introduces water and the jar will spoil.