Nick Earley

It is only fitting that the man who does not make any food in our heaven of exposed brick back in Chicago writes the food reviews for our time in Dakar. Nevertheless, I believe I have refined my palate and astutely identified flavor profiles over countless nights of salmon, pesto, rice, lumpia, Nutella fluffer-nutters, and, of course, ambrosia-laden Annie’s Mac&Cheese. I intend to accomplish one thing while I am in Senegal on the hunt for the greatest food that the world will ever taste: to make a concerted and dogged effort to steal Steve Dolinsky’s job. See picture below for his smug, rabid, canine snarl.

smug, rabid, canine snarl

I begin in the Kasse family’s household sitting on the ground with the family in a circle. A plate of ceebu jen (pronounced ch-eh-boo jen), Senegal’s national dish, glistens before us. A hodge-podge of carrots, potatoes, cabbage, cassava, onions, and more delicately caresses a fully cooked grouper, bones and all, presented to us upon a generously comfy bed of jollof rice. I’m no stranger to a plate of ceebu jen. From my hunts at the hallowed Senegalese restaurants in Chicago and a preliminary tasting of what Dakar’s restaurants had to offer in the early days, I can say with certainty that this is the greatest ceebu jen my snout will ever dip itself into. It is glorious. But patience is a cultural touchstone here and the hound in me is tamed down. As is said in Wolof: Ndank ndank mooy japp golo ci naay (slowly, slowly we catch the monkey in the bush). We stay within our little triangular section of the collective plate, respectfully letting the elders toss us meat into our place. I try to make sure I only eat with my right paw as is customary in Senegal but often I forget and then nervously watch to see if anyone else had seen the faux pas. As my belly gets fuller and fuller, I stay alert to announce SURNA SURNA SURNA SURNA at the slightest mention of a LEKKA LEKKA LEKKA but it never comes. For our first meal, the family knows that we are finished and we head back to delve into the deliciously perfect after-meal Senegalse tea known as attaya. But the hound is tired for now. He’ll talk about attaya at another point.