Dinner in Nigeria
Although most of the food was OK (if junk is your thing) the worst meal i've ever had was in a place incorrectly called Master Chef in Port Harcourt. Went there with an ex-pat and two Nigerian guys from the same oil plant as me and ordered what they ordered, chicken soup with garri. Garri turned out to be like a combination of bread and potatoes with all the flavour taken out but the chewiness left in. It was like blue-tac. But not blue. Anyhoo, we waited about 30 minutes for the Master Chef to wow us, which I was finding it harder and harder to imagine thanks to the smells coming through from the kitchen.
The food arrived and the only way I can describe this chicken soup was like a chicken that had died of starvation after being caught in an avalanche of grass cuttings. Not a clue what the green stuff was. The Nigerians didn't wait for the starting pistol, they were straight into it with their fingers, grabbing things, stuffing it into the garri and wolfing it down. Can't be all that bad then, I thought. I did the same as them, stuffed my garri full of chicken meat and green stuff, and chucked it into my mouth. After about two circuits of my taste buds I had already decided that I wasn't going to swallow whatever it was but hadn't decided if the chicken was in fact fish. I think it had gone off. I felt a bit bad leaving the food whilst the Nigerian boys were raising their bowls to theor faces and draining the last of the liquid into their mouths. I said I wasn't feeling well and I think they believed me (probably thinking "he must be ill not to eat this beautiful dish!"). The aftertaste of those two chews lasted me well into the afternoon but it wasn't chicken, grass or fish that I was getting, it was the taste of pencil sharpenings for a reason that I will never work out.
( Fray Brentos *mega-belms*, Thu 17 May 2007, 20:50, Reply)