Recipes

Not every meal needs noise. Some sit quietly in your chest and heal you from the inside. Soft yam, smoky palm oil, beef that falls apart — this is comfort cooked slow.

Spaghetti with colour, attitude, and heat. Tossed in oil, kissed with pepper, and served with grilled chicken that’s been through fire and came out tender.

Quick doesn’t have to mean careless. These noodles are alive — stir-fried with spice, packed with peppers, and paired with a fluffy omelette that holds its own.

A smooth-talking plate with no bad side. Garlic butter spaghetti that melts in your mouth, grilled chicken that holds your gaze, and peppered beef sauce that slaps.

This is how you plate balance — humble rice and beans, wild peppered sauce, sweet plantains, and grilled chicken anchoring everything like a king.

A plate full of heritage. Ugba that hits deep, peppered kpomo that takes its time, and plantains fried just enough to sing without saying a word.

White rice and chicken pepper soup — a humble, spicy, and soul-soothing Nigerian dish that delivers deep comfort and flavour.

Spaghetti stir-fried with sausage, chicken, and veggies — full of bold flavour and cooked to perfection in true Naija-style.

Vegetable fried rice with tender grilled chicken and creamy coleslaw — a warm, nourishing plate full of flavour and comfort.

Creamy coleslaw and a citrusy lime drink — the perfect light combo for clean, refreshing, and feel-good moments.

Soft egg and sausage sandwich with crispy sides — a comforting breakfast that feels like calm and tastes like home.

Nostalgic fried rice with sausage and chicken, paired with creamy coleslaw — a warm plate that tastes like peace after a long day.

This tastes like the kind of morning you don’t rush. Like soft music, thick socks, and no pressure. It’s sweet without trying too hard, familiar without being boring. The banana melts into the toast like it was always meant to be there — kind of like how some people walk into your life and you wonder how you ever lived before them.

This is that loud, unapologetic, “I deserve something good” kind of meal. The kind you reward yourself with after a hard week or on a random Tuesday just because. It’s bold, it crackles when you bite it, and every spice tells you, “You made it through.” This isn’t chicken — this is therapy, deep-fried.

This is what “I miss home” tastes like.
Soft rice, leafy greens, spiced chicken — the trio that never disappoints.
It reminds you of Sunday afternoons, of mothers who don’t need measuring cups,
and of peace that lives in pots.
One bite and suddenly, you’re eight years old again, barefoot in the kitchen, stealing meat.

There’s something about pasta that always feels like an experiment — but this one? This one surprises you. A little soft, a little chewy, full of edge from the fried meat and that runny, rich egg. It tastes like figuring life out in real time — messy, bold, but worth every bite.

This is the food you make when you’re missing home — not just a place, but a time, a feeling, a person. The yam breaks apart gently, the oil shimmers like memory, and the vegetables remind you that even bitterness can be beautiful when it’s balanced. It’s not just a meal. It’s remembering.

This isn’t just noodles — this is what you cook when the silence in your room feels too loud.
When you’re not sure if you’re hungry or just tired… but either way, you need warmth.
The sizzle of sausage, the swirl of egg, the heat of pepper — it fills more than your stomach.
It fills the space.