Elom's Togolese Cuisine

Lia stood in the far corner of the hot kitchen and took a swig of her water. This was the first break she had taken all day. Her restaurant was celebrating its 3^rd anniversary, and she was expecting over 50 customers to come by today. Most of her Togolese community would be there, and she knew some of her other friends were planning to come by as well, besides any new customers that might stumble in. Her assistant had called in sick yesterday, but thankfully her parents would come to her rescue soon. She washed her hands again and continued to prepare the ablo, a fluffy rice and corn cake, from her great-great-grandmother’s recipe. Pouring the batter into individual aluminum cupcake liners, she carefully placed them in the aluminum steamer that had belonged to her great-grandmother. She had already loaded the bigger one that she had bought online. Rather than buying another big steamer, she still liked to use this one that her grandmother had used herself when she was selling ablo for a living.

Her restaurant was a buffet, the only restaurant in the state that served Togolese food. She always made sure to have at least a couple hundred ablo ready to be eaten with any of the flavorful stews that she made. The ablo was a crowd favorite: slightly sweet, a little sour, fluffy, and very satisfying. She attributed a large part of her success to this recipe.

It had been a gamble to start a restaurant serving a cuisine that almost nobody knew about. When people asked where her father was from, only a small percentage would recognize the country with which she answered.

“Togo, West Africa. It’s next to Ghana,” she would usually clarify. Her father, Komi, had been born and raised in Togo until his mid-twenties, when he immigrated to the United States to join his father. Then her grandmother and all three of her uncles came soon after. They were a close-knit family, a family that was always growing with new “aunts” and “uncles” that immigrated from Togo.

               The bell on the outside door jingled and her parents walked in, ready to help with her big day. They had been her biggest supporters in taking the leap of faith to open this restaurant. She was thankful that, while other parents may have pushed her to stay in her safe accounting job, they had encouraged her to pursue her passion for cooking and a life that would be fulfilling to her. And so far, it had paid off—in a big way. A way that caught Lia completely off guard.

               “Mia woezo,” she welcomed them in her father’s first language, Ewe. “Yooo,” they both replied. Her mom, Katie, was an American. She had improved her Ewe skills over the years, but she still had not been able to attain complete fluency. Still, she used it as often as she could and tried to blend in well with her husband’s family, though she definitely stood out with her pale skin. Katie skipped their usual hug and immediately started washing her hands, while Komi gave Lia a quick kiss on the forehead.

               “What do you need me to start with?” Katie asked.

               “Can you cut up the chickens?” Lia joked. Katie was the worst at properly butchering a chicken. She looked startled for a brief moment before seeing Lia’s smirk.

“Actually, can you start some plantains? Maybe half of those to start.” Lia gestured toward several bunches of very ripe plantains.

               “Oh, thank God! Yes, I can do some plantains.” Katie went right to work.

               “Papa, can you start grilling the kebabs?” She turned to her father, Komi, who was washing up.

               “Of course!”

               Working in the kitchen again, just the three of them, reminded Lia of her childhood. Her mother did most of the cooking, but Komi would occasionally grill some suya chicken kebabs for them just like he was doing now. They worked peacefully together for the next couple of hours until it was time to open. Lia brought the salads and fruit she had prepared ahead of time out of the big refrigerator and set them in the buffet. The kebabs, plantains, and various soups/stews were already in their chafing dishes being kept hot.

               Lia looked around one last time and completed her checklist. Plates, cups, utensils, napkins, and every dish on the menu for today, as well as the big pitchers of water and bissap, a hibiscus drink with pineapple juice, ginger, and cloves. Everything was there, and there was more in the refrigerator or on the stove, being kept at safe temperatures. She flipped the sign on the outside of the door to say “OPEN.”

               Customers trickled in over the next hour and lingered as they took their time with salad, then main courses. When the dining room was full, some of Lia’s male cousins set up card tables and folding chairs outside the restaurant to accommodate more people. Lia’s Togolese grandparents had arrived and eaten by this time as well. Her grandmother, whom almost everyone called Maman, was greeting everyone table by table and thanking them for their support of her granddaughter. This was the grandmother that had taught her how to cook from when she was only five years old, including the cherished ablo recipe that she still used today. She admired her grandmother greatly. She was a hard-working and generous woman, always busy doing good. Every holiday, she would prepare huge batches of chicken and plantains that Lia’s father and uncles would pass out to the homeless downtown. She would make a very spicy chicken soup whenever she heard of anyone from church getting sick and send it over to them. She didn’t earn much with her school cafeteria job, but she would give generously whenever anyone she knew had a wedding or graduation. It was like she was always looking around for someone to bless. She had left her home country in her fifties and come to a country where she didn’t yet speak the language. Yet, despite the language barrier, she had made friends with the people around her everywhere she went. Lia knew that she missed her home, but she focused on making others happy instead of feeling sorry for herself.

Noticing that Maman had finished greeting everyone, Komi took the opportunity to make a toast.

               “Everyone, if I can have your attention.” He called out, clinking a plastic glass with a metal fork. “Agoo nami!” He asked for attention in Ewe as well.

               “Good afternoon, everyone! I’m Komi. I’m Lia’s father. Her mother and I just wanted to take a moment to thank you for supporting our daughter.” He draped his arm around Lia’s shoulders. “First and foremost, we thank God for Lia, Akossiwa, Elom.”  He was listing all her names and cultural nicknames, something he had done on occasions throughout her life when he was proud of her or wanted to say a blessing over her. “She’s Akossiwa because she was born on a Sunday,” he explained for all the non-Togolese. “The name of this restaurant is actually her Ewe name, Elom, which means ‘God loves me’. Lia is short for Cornelia, but she prefers Lia, so that’s what we usually call her.” He looked at her with pride. Her eyes were starting to water a little, and she looked down at the colorful floor tiles. “Anyway,” he said, taking the cue. “We thank God for her and for what she has been able to accomplish with this restaurant. She’s continuing a legacy. Her great-grandmother, my grandmother, sold ablo for a living in Togo. In her town, she was known to have the best ablo and goat soup. That’s how she was able to raise eight children on her own after my grandfather died in an accident. She would be happy that her family is still using her recipe today. We all know that Togolese food is the best food, if we are honest with ourselves.” He laughed. “I may be biased. Anyway, we wanted to thank all her friends and any newcomers for supporting her and for taking part in our culture this way. It means a lot. Let’s have a toast for her continued success, and may God bless you all as well.” He raised his glass and said a few words in Ewe, a quick translation of what he had said in English.

               Guests continued to trickle in and out. Lia made sure to greet each one, especially when some new customers came in and looked confused at the familial atmosphere. Lia adeptly gave them a table near some of her family members and American friends and then took them to the buffet to quickly explain the dishes to them. She made several quick trips to the kitchen to refill food and drinks as they were consumed and fried another batch of plantains. Her younger cousins were helping with dishes today. She had bribed them by promising to take them to a concert later. They were plotting together to have her buy them ice cream after the concert, Lia noticed as she took a seat in the corner of the kitchen. She felt overwhelmed. She had known the restaurant would be busy today. After all, she had brought it on herself by advertising a special anniversary deal. But it had been way more people than expected. Actually, her dining room had been filling up to capacity a lot lately. She had not expected her business to grow this much this soon.

               Her mother came into the kitchen, interrupting her thoughts. She gave her a thumbs up with a questioning look. “You good?”

               Lia sighed and automatically returned the thumbs up. “Yeah, I’m good. I just hope I don’t run out of ablo.”

               “You don’t have more batter?” Her mother asked.

               “Oh! I do! I forgot.” Lia walked to the corner of the room where a large bowl was holding some more fermenting batter. “I’ve been a little stressed today. Maybe that’s why it slipped my mind.”

               “I can steam it for you,” Katie offered.

               “Would you? I wouldn’t mind getting off my feet for a little bit.”

               “Yeah, no problem. Take a break.”

               “Thank you!” Lia plopped back down in the chair in the corner of the kitchen.

               Katie began scooping the batter. “Are you really okay, though?” She asked again. “You’ve seemed stressed lately.”

               Lia sighed. “Yeah, I’m okay. I’m just overwhelmed by how fast the restaurant has grown. I’m just too popular!” She said the last sentence in a goofy tone, making fun of herself for feeling overwhelmed by too much success.

               Her mother nodded as she continued to load up the steamer with batter. “No, I get it. You probably didn’t expect to do this well so quickly, even though it’s the goal. And you only have yourself and Akpene. It might be time to hire more staff, huh?”

               “Yeah.” Lia sighed deeply. She knew she needed to hire more staff. And she was considering moving to a larger facility once her lease was up. She had her eye on an old Taco Cabana, in fact. The only problem was that she felt terrified to sign a lease with a much larger rent, just like she felt terrified to be responsible for even more people’s livelihood. She just wanted a small restaurant. She was content with what she had already. She was happy to even still be in business. She didn’t need all this growth!

               That night, Lia sat in her bed and replied to all the messages from her mother’s side of the family. They lived too far away to come to her anniversary, but had messaged their well wishes and congratulations. Afterward, she looked at the pictures on her phone. Her cousin Nukunu had had the foresight to take her phone and snap pictures of all the visitors at her anniversary celebration. She flipped through, looking at all the happy faces, the plates of delicious food, and even the tropical plants that she had added recently. He had captured a lot in these photos. She gently set her phone on her bedside table and pulled out a journal and pen from its drawer. She wanted to process her feelings after an emotional day. She was grateful for how well the day had gone, and for her success in general. She was worried about the future. She was afraid of flying too close to the sun and then getting burned. But something her grandmother had said in passing as they parted from each other today was strangely comforting her.

Maman had come into the kitchen to say goodbye and noticed that Lia was still using the small steamer from her great-grandmother. She walked over to it and inspected it, lifting the lid and then the other tiers. “Is this working well?” She asked in Ewe.

               Lia had confessed that it took longer and yielded fewer ablo, but she liked to use it anyway. Her grandmother shrugged her shoulders. “I would get a bigger one now since you are making so much. You can keep this one for smaller batches.” She gestured toward the big one that had been ordered online. “Another one like this would be good.”

               Lia had been stunned. She would have thought that her grandmother would be happy that she was still using this steamer that she considered to be an heirloom. But apparently Maman’s attitude was much more practical than sentimental.

Reflecting on it now, Lia chuckled. It was probably a good time for Lia to start being more practical, too. She would keep the heirloom steamer at home and buy another bigger one online. She continued her journal entry, writing that she would take the leap. She would secure a new space before her lease ended. She would find some more good employees. It was time to bet on herself yet again.