Author: Stella Oni

Midnight at Malabar House by Vaseem Khan

Posted in BOOK REVIEW, BOOKSLeave a comment
Image of Vaseem Khan
Image of Vaseem Khan

Midnight at Malabar House, the first in Vaseem Khan’s award-winning historical mystery series, is set in post-partition India in 1949. It follows the investigation into the brutal murder of an English man, James Herriot, at his New Year’s Eve costume ball.

Strong Female Lead

The lead character is the newly appointed female police detective Inspector Persis Wadia who received the call at her midnight shift duty at her basement office in the Malabar House CID. The case becomes politically charged, with Persis determined to find the killer.

Persis comes from the minority Parsis community and had made an inspector in just seven months. Her being a female was scandalous in the India of the day, with many scathing articles appearing in the press. Her seniors regarded the basement of Malabar House CID as a place to keep problematic detectives or those with embarrassing pasts. It was a ragtag group of misfits, but Persis was resolute in her bid to excel.

Persis’s mother died when she was seven under mysterious circumstances that her father refused to reveal, but it formed Persis’s and she learnt to be self-reliant. Vaseem described her stubbornness as bordering on mania. Persis was not interested in marriage despite several attempts by her relatives to marry her off.

Indian History

I love the way Vaseem takes us through the intricate history of India with exquisite descriptions of things and objects from the era. This story also gives us hints of romance when Persis finds support in the shape of Scotland Yard criminalist Archie Blackfinch. I plan to continue to read the series to see whether romance blooms between them.

Vaseem weaves a lot into this book and it is as much a crime story and a lesson in history.  Here is what Persis had to say about history: “History is a harsh judge. It’s no easy task building a nation on the ashes of the dead. The only way to do it is to sweep aside the lies and admit what happened.”

Through the character’s eyes, we see how much blood they shed in the partition of India and the part that the colonial masters played in this.

More in the series

The success of Midnight at Malabar House shows we need more good quality historical fiction from all over the world, especially from colonised worlds where history was written by those in power and not enough from those who were colonised.

What I enjoy most about historical fiction is learning new things in the history of a place or country. For example, that the fingerprint classification system originated from India!

It’s great to have a series that offers a strong female character with a potential love interest and insights into the history of the day while taking you on a merry caper to solve a brutal crime.

I am slowly making my way through crime mysteries set in India.

pssst!

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Isiewu – The spicy, edgy goat head dish for adventurous foodies!

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Isiewu is not for the squeamish.  But for those edgy, adventurous foodies that would likely taste or eat anything.

Some are likely to be Anthony Bourdain fans like me and would have mourned the passing of one of the world’s greatest food adventurer.

I am not as fearless but I am still cool and edgy!  Without a doubt, I hate jellied eels, black pudding, cold tongue, to name a few!

Living with my Grandmother

Growing up in Nigeria and  with my grandmother from age 4 years were the best and most exciting of my life!

She died when I was eleven, and I mourned her like my mother. At eleven, I went on to live with my parents, and my boring middle-class life ended that adventure.

Most of what I would write about food here began inception from those years. This is why I say cherish your every memory as you never know which ones would be your ultimate influence.

Buka joints

That was the period in which I was able to taste all the culinary food on offer on the streets of Lagos. No experience can beat this. It made me adventurous when it came to food.   If you have gone anywhere in Africa and did not gone out to savour the street food in the local cafes especially Isiewu, then you have missed out.

In Nigeria, we call them Buka. They are local restaurants with some built of wooden structures that serve the tastiest food on the streets. I love food in my writing and Lara whose story The black widow of Oshogbo in Midnight Hour loves her local food.

Buka Style restaurants

A few restaurants In London do authentic Nigerian dishes and Isiewu tends to be on the menu as it is a favourite.

I have only eaten this tasty dish 3 or 4 times in my life. Each experience has been memorable.

In Nigeria and I believe most of Africa, meat is valued and it is precious. Furthermore, they are not animals pumped full of antibiotics and fed with gunk so that there is plenty to go round. Meat is grass-fed cows herded by the nomadic Fulani herdsmen and sold to local abattoirs.

Goat Head

Goats are reared in villages or farms and wander around eating yam peelings, banana peels, grass and other raw whole food. That is why when an animal is killed, every part of it is consumed. Nothing is wasted. I learnt to eat every part of an animal.  A while back I tried to become a vegetarian but went  back to eating meat.

What I will do in the next few articles will be to look at a particular part of an animal, that is a delicacy in say somewhere like Nigeria.

Today I chose Isiewu. It is cleaned and chopped spicy goat head cooked in palm oil, spices and herbs. Goat meat, which I love to eat, has a strong flavour and is tough meat. All of which ticks my boxes.

Isiewu teases your palate because it dances between savoury, spicy and a tinge of bitter. It is an Igbo dish. The Igbos are from the eastern part of Nigeria, and they are known for cooking healthy meat and fresh vegetable dishes. The author, Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie is proudly Igbo.

Isiewu

My first taste of Isiewu was many, many years ago. I had just finished university and was on the National Youth Service Corps(NYSC). All university graduates in Nigeria must serve for a year before they are released into the job market. Most of the time, they use that year to gain some work experience. I chose to do my service in Kano, the North of Nigeria. It was a great year that was full of many adventurous, including culinary ones.

A lot of Igbos went to settle in the North of Nigeria, and some opened local cafes and restaurant. I had my Isiewu with the local palm wine. It was presented in a small clay pot, garnished with onions and herbs.  I was told to dig in. I did!

Recently, a friend told me she was cooking Isiewu and asked if I would like some. Would you ask a bird if it wants to fly? Bad analogy, but hey oh!  I eagerly agreed.

She cooked it to perfection, and it set my taste buds fluttering. I was all over that dish!

Wherever you are in the world If you happen to go to a Nigerian restaurant post-lockdown, be bold. Ask for Isiewu. Come back to tell me about it afterwards. I will still be here.



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Dundun – the Fried yam sold on and off the streets of Lagos- delicious!

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When I watch food programs on Netflix like ‘Somebody Feed Phil’ or the late Anthony Bourdain marching through the streets of Asia and tasting all the delicious street foods, I am filled with envy and a strange kind of nostalgia for my Nigerian street food. Especially – dundun(fried yam).

Image by LuvMattaz TV on You Tube

Street Food


It takes me back to a period in my childhood when I lived with my grandmother in Lagos, Nigeria, and before my parents thrust me into a different kind of life. I can visualise the street sellers and hawkers serving dundun to hungry workers who had to face the stress and anxiety of the chaotic Lagos traffic. Or workers that want to snack on something hot and comforting.

Yam


Many countries eat yam, and also many countries do not eat it or know of it. It is an acquired taste as it is quite fibrous and might even be considered tasteless. Yam was at the heart of Chinua Achebe’s ‘Things Fall Apart‘. Back in the olden days in Nigeria, farmers commanded great wealth from growing yam. It was the staple food of the rich and the poor valued it.

Yam sold at a London High Street

I love the real pounded yam made by pounding cooked yam in a mortar with a pestle. The powdered version sold in a lot of African food shops in the west is a poor relative made up of a mix of potato flour and other varieties.


Ebute Metta restaurant on Plumstead High Street in London promises you yam pounded in mortar and pestle if you gave them an hour’s advance notice. I am yet to try that but promise you their food is delicious. I had okra soup and amala and cried with joy as I ate it.

Two ways to make Dun Dun


Back to dun dun. It is fried in two ways that I know of – the raw yam is cut into chunks or sliced and fried in deep oil, or the yam is parboiled and then fried. You add a bit of salt to taste before frying. I prefer the parboiled one because it is moist on the inside and crusty on the outside. That is two different flavours dancing on your tongue.

Dundun is delicious with fried stew and your choice of beef, chicken fish or stockfish.

Restaurant or Streetfood

The last dundun I ate was out of a street kiosk at Woolwich market, London. It was called “Joy of the Lord Remain Forever”. I would call the young cook an hour in advance and ask for my special – Fried yam, fish and fried stew all for the excellent price of £7! To my thinking, street markets serve tastier deals than restaurants.

I have tried to make dundun but do not think it is as good as what I have tasted on the streets. If you’re adventurous then when next you hit a Nigerian or African restaurant ask for dundun and fried stew. Better still, when you’re next in London, you might want to visit that street kiosk or got to Ebute Metta restaurant.

Ciao!

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Queen Elizabeth II of England and African Royalty

Posted in OPINION, TRIBUTELeave a comment

A long reign!

Elizabeth Queen II of England reigned for seventy years and died this week at the age of 96.

There has been posts and articles with different perspective on the monarchy. Many positive and a lot of negative ones. I can only speak from my point of view.

Yes, England colonised majority of the African countries including Nigeria. My children and generations to come will continue to feel the impact of that. Also, Britain is built on the class system.

But, the queen was not just the head of an institution but also a human being – a much respected one.

She reigned for 70 years and was part of mine, my mother and even my grandmother’s life and I think her incredible achievement should be celebrated.

She dedicated, and served her people with quiet resilience and integrity.

“I declare before you all that my whole life, whether it be long or short, shall be devoted to your service and the service of our great imperial family to which we all belong.”

Her Majesty The Queen

I am glad that we threw her a big jubilee celebration!

Growing up in Nigeria all I knew was that there was a beautiful woman who was our Queen. She controlled her kingdom, and her subjects loved and respected her. Ancient and modern African royalty is, however, utterly opposite to this. So my attention will be on the perception of the Queen in the context of African royalty.

Queen Elizabeth with King Akenzua II of Benin Kingdom, Nigeria – 1956

English royalty vs Nigerian royalty

In Nigeria, royalty is given within the tribes, villages or communities. It meant every town had her king, and every community had her chief. As opposed to the English kingship system, the ascension to the throne by a king or village head in traditional Nigerian society works through the patriarchal system (the male line). Such a person must belong to one of the ruling houses that exist within the royal family. It is rare to have a kingship or chieftaincy title passed through a matriarchal line.

Ancient Africa

In ancient Africa, there were only a handful of well-known queens. Thus, I was happy when I discovered Queen Aminatu of Zaria. She ruled Zazzau in Hausaland in Northern Nigeria in the 16th century and was a revered warrior!

Image by David Arboleda – Pexel

I claim some royal blood through my mum, a princess, and so was my maternal grandmother. It means that I can trace my mother’s lineage back to a few centuries. Unfortunately, most histories are transmitted orally. To date, African kingship and other royal titles are regarded with great respect.  

God Save the Queen!

Queen Elizabeth II was a Queen that ruled a powerful nation – a continuous source of fascination. Indirectly, in blistering, sweltering, sunny, crazy beautiful Nigeria, I became a kind of royal fan. Something that I somewhat considered old-fashioned and uncool. But there you are!

When Prince Charles got married to Diana, it was a great occasion that was celebrated in Nigeria. My Dad was happy to share that ‘Charles had sowed his wild oats. Mind you, he was 33 years old at that time. 

When William and Kate got married, I invited friends around to eat, drink and dance. We loved Diana and celebrated her son’s happiness. I made a feast of beef Suya, and we had plenty of drinks. I also celebrated when Harry married Meghan. It was emotional, and I was happy with their happiness.

At the same time, the marriage of the leading Oba of Yoruba land, the Ooni of Ife, to a sophisticated ‘girl about town’, whom many traditional Yorubas disapproved of, fascinated many Nigerians and me. We avidly followed their lives on Google. Was she pregnant? Was she not? It was disappointing that she skipped out of that marriage so quickly.

What does it mean to be royalty in Nigeria?

Royal families in Nigeria, especially Obas with huge lands enjoy a lavish lifestyle with devoted subjects. They strictly adhere to traditional worship and rituals. Most Obas marry many wives and have concubines(yes, the term still stands). My maternal grandmother who was really beautiful became a royal wife at a very young age.

Queen Elizabeth’s II legacy

The Queen left a strong legacy but it will not be the same. King Charles has giant shoes to fill and he knows it. There can not be another Elizabeth of Windsor. But we know that she has done her job on the earth and gone home to rest with her beloved Philip. The rest is now left to her descendants!

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You Beneath Your Skin by Damyanti Biswas

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You beneath Your skin is an intricate crime story centred on Indian American single mother and psychiatrist Anjali Morgan. She relocated to Delhi from America with her autistic teenage son and fights a daily battle to meet his complex needs. 

Damyanti Biswas

It is a multiple-point-of-view story that unfolds Anjali’s relationships with those closest to her. Her best friend Maya, from whom she rents an apartment at her family home. Her long-standing affair with Maya’s married brother, police commissioner Jatin whom she met in America when he was a student under the mentorship of her deceased father. He later left for India and became a police commissioner, married to his powerful boss’s daughter, an indifferent wife and mother. They have a son Varun who is perfect in his father’s eyes, with a lot going on under the surface.

Once Damyanti had made us understand these complicated relationships, we were off on a gritty, gripping ride!

You beneath Your skin takes us through the slums of Delhi with a theme that covers, poverty, power and corruption, love, betrayal, and drug dealing with the brutal murder of slum women burned with acid at its heart.

It is a crime book unafraid of digging deep into the city’s underbelly. Also, in this story, no character is safe!

Damyanti delivers a brilliant debut with layers of intrigue and twists that expose corruption in a way that I have not seen in fiction in a long time.

I loved reading this book and look forward to reading her next one, The Blue Bar.

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My Other Husband by Dorothy Koomson

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My other Husband is Dorothy Koomson’s 18th novel, and she delivered well! I actually got to a point where I could not put the book down till I finished it!. Dorothy is a Queen of twisty psychological thrillers. So I loved that some months back, she invited me to her proof party with a tissue-wrapped gift copy of the proof, a nice packet of coffee and Maltesers. Maltesers is a favourite in the story!

My Other Husband is the story of  Cleo Forsum, a successful screenwriter of crime fiction, married to a lovely husband and with a life to envy. But Cleo has decided to shatter that perfect life by seeking to divorce her husband and ending her TV series. Someone is hunting her by killing people precisely as it happens in her series and framing her.    From there begins our journey into Dorothy’s dark, twisty world as we go on a trip with Cleo, who harbours a deep secret that is the cause of her problems.

My Other Husband covers the theme of love and obsession. Dorothy’s writing on love and relationships are never simple as her protagonists are mostly angst-ridden complex women with secrets.

What is also striking is our intimate view into Cleo’s life. Dorothy zooms us into her head and we feel her fears, including some of her serious bed action. Hmmm… tastefully done, of course!

The grand reveal came at the mid-point and with a slam! And from then, we’re on a roller coaster ride to a satisfying end.

Cleo was a lucky, unlucky girl with two panting hot men! I can’t say more than that.

Go get your copy!

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Complicit by Winnie Li

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Complicit is a novel that starts slow and burns bright. I am familiar with Winnie Li’s work as I had read Dark Chapter, which was an incisive page-turner on the fictionalised story of the author’s real-life trauma that happened in Ireland. What made it stand out is how Winnie told Dark Chapter from the point of view of the victim and perpetrator.  

In Complicit, Winnie shone a light into the dark side of Hollywood and misogyny. She played with many themes, significant and small, and I think it would be worth rereading it to catch the ones that could have been missed. She had a lot to say on sexism, money power, racism, white privilege, 2nd generation immigrant trauma/experience, the illusion of Hollywood, and feminine powerlessness.

When I began Complicit and entered into the dull world of the protagonist, Chinese American Sarah Lai. I sighed. I wanted to be instantly transported into the magic of whatever ilk as long as it did not reflect the dreariness of our everyday life! Then the author skilfully pulls you in.  

Winnie Li
Winnie Li

Sarah Lai is the protagonist starting her career in the Film industry and eventually becoming an associate producer. The story sees-saws between the present and the past.   Hugo North is the Harvey Weinstein-like figure who was bankrolling the film in the production company where she worked.

This is definitely an #Metoo story but more than this, Winnie deftly showed us the struggles of the child of immigrants, the expectations and anxiety of those parents and their wish for their children to do well in their adopted country.  

Sarah’s drive toward her ambition ultimately found her in the politics and corruption of the film industry. Winnie reveals behind the scene Hollywood with skill and assured writing. It peels back the casual carelessness of white privilege and racism.

Here is a comment by her former boss Sylvia Zimmerman to the journalist doing the investigation

‘No one likes seeing ambition so visibly. Sarah was from that Chinese restaurant background of hers, so maybe there were some cultural….ways of being which were lost to her. Or maybe we’re just not used to seeing a young Asian woman in charge, so that kind of authority is harder to grant….regardless of her competence.’

There is a lot to take away from Complicit, and I fell in love with it. Winnie’s book excited me and laid bare the universal struggle of women worldwide. The fight to be recognised in our own right and not through the male gaze and power.  

I love the hope at the end that there is now more chance of diverse voices being heard and institutions created to catch young talent. It is definitely an optimistic hope for the future.

When a book resonates with you long after you put it down, you know it is something special.  

Complicit is definitely a critical work in this landscape.

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THE VIEW FROM BREAST POCKET MOUNTAIN by Karen Hill Anton

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This is a memoir about adventure, resilience, survival and defying the odds!

I first heard of Karen Hill Anton on the Alliance of Independent Authors’ podcast, where she discussed her memoir, the View From Breast Pocket Mountain. It is about her life as a black woman who travelled around the world, finally settled in Japan, and has been there for over forty years. I immediately bought the book because it intrigued me. Karen began her travels in 1965 when she was 19 and went around Europe.

The View From Breast Pocket Mountain
The View From Breast Pocket Mountain

I admired how she transcended a tough childhood – a mentally ill and institutionalised mother, her childhood home burning down, her beloved father and brother murdered. Through all those traumas, Karen continued her life and broke many boundaries.

 One of the most memorable parts of the book was when she, her white partner, whom she later married and her young daughter decided to move to Japan in the 70s to become part of a Dojo. Instead of flying or travelling by ship, they decided they would drive. It took them a year of road, water and flight, living frugally, sleeping in their car, and camping on the grounds.

 Karen described her experiences of unwanted male attention in some of the middle eastern countries. How her partner would stay up all night to ensure she and her daughter were safe. Karen also described the harsh dojo existence, her loneliness, because Japanese culture is multigenerational and supports the family. She and her husband stood out as foreigners with no family support. However, she slowly made friends and began to be accepted in the society.

This would be an excellent read for those trying to understand a black female experience in Europe and other parts of the world in the 60s and 70s.

 Karen went on to have three more children in Japan who grew up bilingual. Still, she and her husband decided to educate their children in the States due to the Japanese education system, which they felt did not encourage creativity. They now have grown children who have gone on to have their own families scattered around the world. At the same time, she is content with her role in Japan as a writer and then as a cultural liaison.

#booklovers #memoir #Japan #stellaonithewriter #bookreview

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Platinum Jubilee cake to celebrate her Majesty

Posted in MY CAKE ADVENTURE SERIES1 Comment

It was great to make my platinum jubilee cake.

I was a child of the Empire, a second-generation British Nigeria. My parents were children of colonialism. I grew up listening to my late father’s love for all things British. My mom, who lives in the States, is probably glued to the TV and toasting the Queen with a glass of wine.

This influenced my decision to come back to settle in the place of my birth. I was young and starry-eyed. It had been a bittersweet experience – full of highs and lows.

I was brought up in an all-black nation with lots of its own issues. And came from a good background with a strong sense of my identity. Racism shocked and traumatised me. But where I come from, you pray, brush yourself up and wake up to another day’s challenge. I’ve always strived to be my most authentic and to develop sincere relationships as I love to interact with people.

Empire had played a role all of my life and a constant in this was Queen Elizabeth II. While chaos reigned in moments of her life, she stayed stoic and constant. She survived many scandals, divorces of her children, deaths in the family and events that have rocked the nation.

Seventy years doing a job is not a joke, and I applaud this.

Ten years ago, when she celebrated her diamond jubilee, I made these cupcakes. So, when colleagues requested that I make a platinum Jubilee cake, I decided on this one – a sponge with raspberry buttercream filling and covered in white chocolate ganache.

Stella Oni’s Diamond Jubilee Cupcakes

So, however, I feel about the impact of the Empire upon the life of my parents, my life and the life of generations to come, I say;

Here is to strength and resilience. Here is to Queen Elizabeth II!

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Ghanaian Tsofi (Turkey Tail)-An interesting part of a Turkey’s anatomy –

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dangerously delicious if you don’t know what you’re eating!

A while ago, I was at a friend’s surprise party and, in my usual fashion, went to take a look at the table’s bounteous offerings. The trick for someone that loves food like me is to ensure I eat in small bites, and as food lovers know, that is a bit hard to achieve.

I spied a big platter of tasty fried chicken among the offerings, and it smelt good! I hovered around it and snatched one that promptly disappeared down my mouth in one bite( sorry, I’m not a dainty eater, my Nigerian boarding school paid put to that).

Chofi /Turkey Tail

A burst of flavour

I closed my eyes in awe and reverence at the intense burst of flavour that increased as I chewed. This was the most well-seasoned chicken I had ever tasted. I snatched 4 more onto my plate and perched in a corner like a puppy with a bone and the countenance that said interrupt this one woman chicken party at your peril.

Once the last of the bites had disappeared down to my grateful stomach, I washed it down with some wine and then beamed at everyone in satisfaction. Then I gave the cook lavish compliments that were graciously accepted.

A shocking truth

Later on, as we drove back home, I continued to wax lyrics about the delicious chicken bites and how I would love to go cook it at home if I got the recipe. My friend in the car said that this would be quickly arranged, then he casually said, ‘you keep calling it chicken bits. You do know it is not chicken?’. I said indeed I did not. What was it then? He said it was Turkey tail!

Friends, that is another name for Turkey’s butt! A particular delicacy in Ghana! My jaws dropped. Should I laugh or cry? Of course, I laughed! I had just eaten turkey, yansh! (Nigerian pidgin English for that bit of Turkey). That tail is a gland that connects the turkey’s feathers to its body, and it is filled with oil mainly meant for grooming Turkey’s feathers!

Now, don’t you go laughing at me? What is the delicacy in your own country? As I am British Nigerian, I can say mine is;

Giant Snails(not those tiny escargots!) — Nigeria
Jellied Eels(Eurgh! Britain)😂😂🤣