By Ruona Agbroko
September 11, 2009 11:48AMT
At the risk of sounding puerile, I intended to sow my wild oats immediately I heard I would be covering a story in Port Harcourt; it is, after all, a city reputed for its nightlife and equally colourful human beings.
I am happy to say my experiences were nothing short of orgasmic... the very moment my taste buds came in contact with Port Harcourt's famous boli and fish in tomato sauce, I felt my juices (salivary, mind) spew forth. Each thrust of my tongue meant the charcoal-roasted plantains melded with the grilled fish and the tang of chopped pepper, onions, palm oil and tomatoes steeped in native spices.
I would close my eyes, savouring the delicious sensations, moaning my thanks to the bewildered seller and then swallowing. Unquantifiable regret came when it all had to end after a few rounds, bites, I mean.
Served all around the ‘Garden City', there is a reason why this boli is different. The firm, robust plantains smoulder slowly, flanked by pieces of fish, both giving out aromas that are bound to make the hungry hungrier and the newly-fed peckish.
Either way, you'll find yourself falling under the wiles of the fare, especially when you discover how cheap it is, plantains are at most N100 and fish from N50 upwards.
I ate boli on the road, in between interviews and bought my driver some so I wouldn't have to share. We normally got our fix at Agudama Street in the D-line area, where over 10 ladies have their wares on display.
We would prod and poke before choosing, mouths watering as we watched the sellers squash the plantains afterwards and add steaming spoonfuls of the sauce.
Our anger could be likened to the antics of a jealous lover when we didn't get served fast enough in a crowd of bank executives, school kids and even expectant mothers.
Coming back to Lagos' puny, often-unripe boli served with stone-filled groundnuts has been like being forced to marry my pot-bellied village chief after momentarily dating Ozwald Boateng; you may fill your urges with the former, but always yearn for the latter.
September 11, 2009 11:48AMT
At the risk of sounding puerile, I intended to sow my wild oats immediately I heard I would be covering a story in Port Harcourt; it is, after all, a city reputed for its nightlife and equally colourful human beings.
I am happy to say my experiences were nothing short of orgasmic... the very moment my taste buds came in contact with Port Harcourt's famous boli and fish in tomato sauce, I felt my juices (salivary, mind) spew forth. Each thrust of my tongue meant the charcoal-roasted plantains melded with the grilled fish and the tang of chopped pepper, onions, palm oil and tomatoes steeped in native spices.
I would close my eyes, savouring the delicious sensations, moaning my thanks to the bewildered seller and then swallowing. Unquantifiable regret came when it all had to end after a few rounds, bites, I mean.
Served all around the ‘Garden City', there is a reason why this boli is different. The firm, robust plantains smoulder slowly, flanked by pieces of fish, both giving out aromas that are bound to make the hungry hungrier and the newly-fed peckish.
Either way, you'll find yourself falling under the wiles of the fare, especially when you discover how cheap it is, plantains are at most N100 and fish from N50 upwards.
I ate boli on the road, in between interviews and bought my driver some so I wouldn't have to share. We normally got our fix at Agudama Street in the D-line area, where over 10 ladies have their wares on display.
We would prod and poke before choosing, mouths watering as we watched the sellers squash the plantains afterwards and add steaming spoonfuls of the sauce.
Our anger could be likened to the antics of a jealous lover when we didn't get served fast enough in a crowd of bank executives, school kids and even expectant mothers.
Coming back to Lagos' puny, often-unripe boli served with stone-filled groundnuts has been like being forced to marry my pot-bellied village chief after momentarily dating Ozwald Boateng; you may fill your urges with the former, but always yearn for the latter.
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