In fact, Tyler Cowen (author of the just-published guide "An Economist Gets Lunch: New Rules for Everyday Foodies" ) writes in the May 2012 edition of Atlantic Monthly magazine that one of the six rules for dining out (and finding the perfect lunch) is that in the fanciest restaurants, one should "order what sounds least appetizing". Why? Because at a fancy restaurant, "the menu is well thought-out. The kitchen's time and attention are scarce. An item won't be on the menu unless there is a good reason for its presence. If it sounds bad, it probably tastes especially good". (Emphasis mine)....
(To read more of Cowen's excellent article, go here)
Now, I grant you, there are probably fancier places in Edmonton, Alberta than Koultures Afro-Continental Restaurant, but I can also guarantee that Cowen's dictum applies here. Get the goat.
Having said that - pretty well everything on the left side (the "Afro" portion) of this menu will likely be unfamiliar. North Americans have had the immense privilege of being served excellent ethnic fare from the wave after wave of new immigrant populations that have joined us over time. From our great-grandparents learning the joys of Chinese cuisine to the latest influx of fresh and healthy Vietnamese Pho, you can pretty well travel around the world, foodwise, in any decently-sized city on the continent. After all, twenty years ago, who would have thought we'd be shoveling bits of raw fish into our heads like it was going out of style? There's one significant exception - food from Africa (aside from couscous, perhaps) has yet to become the latest trend here. Maybe what it will take to show us that Africa is not a country, nor a monolithic disaster area, but a huge continent with a vast array of cultures, dynamic people, and yes, the glorious food that goes with thousands of years of evolutionary cooking, is a restaurant like this one, willing to serve absolutely authentic Nigerian fare for those willing to take a chance on goat, while keeping the roast chicken and grilled porkchops safely on the menu for those who maybe want to retreat to something familiar after trying a unique appetizer.
Having the singular advantage of having grown up in Cameroon and Nigeria, I knew intimately what I was getting into on this menu, but there was an added, weighty responsibility. Rachel and Craig, (Nigerians neither) had put themselves into my hands for this meal, and while I love the taste and powerfully unforgettable aroma of dried crayfish, that might not come naturally to those trying something for the first time. And so, I had the privilege of doing something I had always taken for granted as a kid - thinking hard about what we were about to choose from, and explaining it in the most delicious, and cautionary, terms possible. I wanted badly for them to like what they got - this food is part of my DNA, and I wanted the same sense of satisfaction our server had when she realized we had the courage to get the goat.
Appetizers, then.
We started with suya. Grilled meat on a skewer - not chunky like shish-kebab, but thin slices, seasoned with crushed peanuts and savory spices. There was a hint of cinnamon, maybe, and some cumin, and definitely pepper (the kind that makes your brow bead up), and the crowning touch - wood smoke. Suya is the the ultimate west African street food - cooked over hot coals winking in the pitch-black early evening, in a handy round pan with a mesh grill on top, and served inches from the shoulder of a packed and busy highway. Koulture's suya was perfect.
The meat feast was next - cocktail toothpick skewers of (allegedly) beef, liver, lamb, chicken gizzard and snails in a sweet and spicy tomato sauce. That's what the menu said, anyway - but when it arrived, we were advised that tonight, it was a goat feast. No matter - exceptionally delicious, and leaving something for next time. Chicken gizzards in particular - known as "the particulars" in any west African home, the gizzard automatically belongs to the head of the house, or his designate. I selfishly hope they never catch on like chicken wings did, because I can get a whole tray of them at Safeway for three bucks...
And to round it out - Moi moi, an "African bean cake". Known by various names, (Koki beans in Cameroon), this is an incredibly labor-intensive dish to prepare - soaking, peeling, and grinding white pinto beans, blending with spices (including hot pepper flakes and palm oil) shaping into neat banana-leaf packages and steaming carefully for hours). The result, as described by Rae, is almost "tofu-like", but not as limply smooth as its soybean counterpart. One could exist for days, even weeks on this treat - powerfully proteinaceous and singularly satisfying.
Our entrees showcased the essential fundamentals of down-home Nigerian fare. Although the variety of ingredients change from one end of the country to the other (north to south and east to west), most Nigerians will agree that the main meal of the day will consist of a fragrant and spicy tomato or palm-oil based stew, with deep green spinach or spinach-like vegetables, often with ground pumpkin seed (egusi) or ground peanuts, partnered with beef, goat, lamb, fish, or chicken (and all the parts of these fine animals playing key roles in one dish or another). That stew is captured and transferred to your mouth by means of the first three fingers of your right hand, breaking off and forming a kind of scoop of the hearty carbohydrate provided - corn fufu (almost exactly like polenta, except a bit stiffer), pounded yam (like mashed potatoes but with the consistency of silly putty), or cassava (source of tapioca, but also mashed potato-ey in this incarnation). Plantains - which look like bananas but act like potatoes, are another key carbo option. Jollof Rice, from which our Louisiana counterparts evolved their redoubtable Red Beans and Rice dish, is a rightly famous Nigerian option, eaten with less sauce, with the meat on the side. Note - the carbs are the core - this meal is meant to fill you up. As such, the meat and stew are actually more of a garnish, the flavor-enhancer, the icing on the cake, as it were.
Obe Efo-Elegusi - a melon-seed stew with smoked fish and a rack of barbecued goat ribs, spinach and palm oil with pounded yam, was my entree. When it arrived, I thought I should perhaps have had a bit less Moi moi - these portions are gigantic. One dish can easily be shared by two people (which is also nicely Nigerian, in terms of the family meal being a traditionally communal affair, with your own softball-sized sphere of fufu dipped into a shared bowl of stew). The sauce was perfect - a savory blend of beefy gravy with the unmistakable tropical signature of red palm oil, nutty ground pumpkin seed and spinach, punctuated by lovely surprise bite-sized pieces of dark smoked fish, and underpinned with pili-pili - the red pepper (whose heat you can and should request adjustment to when you order) that provides the red face and serotonin rush so beloved by heatseekers from every cuisine. The goat ribs were an odd, but perfectly reasonable combination of what's best about lamb, and low-and-slow barbecue. Goat cheese and goat's milk are both definitely "goaty", and maybe that's why the meat is a bit of a hard sell - but don't let that stop you. Trust me.
Craig had the Jollof rice. After privately telling Rae he was nervous about this meal, he ate it like he was raised on it. The fried plantains seemed to be a particular hit with him. Meanwhile, Rae (a self-professed "tactile" eater) appeared to be in heaven, not limiting herself to a mere three-fingered approach to her mixed-meat stew (without the fish) and pounded yam. (The server did ask, with some dismay - "What happened to your pounded yam?" when viewing the postprandial wreckage of Rae's plate. Practice will make perfect....)
Nobody finished their entree. Mission accomplished, for the kitchen. And for me, the chance to talk in my adopted native tongue with Madame, who owns and runs the place, and commands the kitchen. She has a very lucky family. It took a bit more effort to get our server involved in the conversation at first - a middle aged white guy is not supposed to sound like a Nigerian from the bush ("You learned that on YouTube, didn't you!" she initially said, a bit accusingly....). In the end, though - it was like a trip back to my childhood home. Nothing brings you back like the smell and taste of home cooking, wherever and whomever you might be. So, if you're Nigerian, Cameroonian, or Ghanaian, homesick and hankering for mom's cooking, or an Edmontonian looking to try a new destination on your trip around the culinary world in your town, stop in at Koultures on 118th Avenue and 88th Street. Yes, that's the northside - but you'll be blown away by the changes to the neighborhood, and the pride of the folks living and working there now.
Order the goat.
