(By Immanuel James Ibe-Anyanwu) – Grandmother hated maggi, no, “mmagi”, her term for all English
condiments, which she said were invented to rig the cooking process. Yet she
had her own cooking secrets: ogbamkpo and nwaurubiri, two types of dry fish
without which she made no soup. Only the bones were laid to waste. The heads
and skin, she would pound; and send the grain into the boiling pot to literally
fish out incredible taste.
The main fish, now
rid of all bottlenecks, then plunges into the soup, filling it with true
blessing. No meat or fresh fish approximates to the supremacy of nwaurubiri,
Grandmother’s wise culinary vote.
I once searched in
Lagos for the pair—nwaurubiri and ogbamkpo—in my bid to restore the dignity of
oha. Only twice did I find them. Ruined by urban touch, the Lagos ogbamkpo
tastes like the bark of a tree. I eat the authentic one only when I visit the
village.
Two more items sometimes
helped work Grandmother’s culinary magic: otukwuru and onyenenkete, in my view
the tastiest mushrooms on earth. I do not know the English names of these
species, nor do I particularly care.
