Oha soup, also known as Ora soup, is one of the most favorite soups of people in Eastern Nigeria, especially amongst the Igbo people. I didn't grow up in the East, but I had the privilege of a mom who loved diversity in meals. She loved to explore different meals from different cultures, and this rubbed off on us all as a family. Recently, I made Oha soup, and it reminded me of helping my mom in the kitchen, where she taught me the delicate steps in preparing this delicacy. It reminded me that patience and care were just as important as the ingredients.
The first step in preparing Oha soup is obviously getting the right ingredients. This is where the real work begins. I usually start by going to the market and making sure the leaves I get are fresh; that's very important. Oha leaves are unique; unlike other vegetables, they are not chopped with a knife because that would make them taste bitter, although I've not experienced that before, so I can't say much regarding that. The leaves are gently torn by hand into small pieces. Apart from the Oha leaves, other key ingredients include cocoyam, palm oil, stockfish, dried fish, goat meat or beef, seasoning cubes, crayfish, pepper, and a touch of uziza leaves for spice. Add as many assortments as you wish. I personally love a lot of flesh, so I add a lot to my soups. The cocoyam is especially important because it acts as the thickener that gives Oha soup its rich, creamy texture. Alternative options, such as plantain, can be used, but my preferred option is fresh cocoyam. There's currently a modified powered cocoyam in sachets, but I love my ingredients fresh; it gives dishes more of the taste of nature.
I start by washing and seasoning the meat. Goat meat is my favorite because of its distinct flavor, but beef is also a good alternative. I simmer it with onions, salt, and seasoning cubes until it becomes tender. I love the aroma that comes from parboiling meat; it fills the kitchen with a rich aroma. At the same time, I prepare the cocoyam by boiling the small tubers until they are soft, then pounding them into a smooth paste. I suggest adding little drops of oil while pounding, as it helps the yams to be non-sticky and easier to pound. This paste is what will later melt into the soup.
Once the meat is ready, I add water, stockfish, kpomor, and palm oil into the pot. Watching the oil blend into the broth always excites me; the soup begins to take on its signature reddish-orange color. Next, I stir in the ground crayfish and pepper, which add a savory taste to the soup. At this point, I add the cocoyam paste little by little, stirring until it dissolves into the soup and thickens it just as I want it. u wouldn't want lumps of cocoyam in my soup, so I'd make sure it all dissolves. At this point, the kitchen really comes alive, with the aroma of traditional spices filling every corner.
The final and most delicate step is adding the Oha leaves. Because they are tender, they go in last to preserve their natural flavor and nutrients. I tear them gently by hand and drop them into the boiling soup. Sometimes, I also add a small handful of uziza leaves or seeds, which bring in a mild peppery kick and pleasant aroma. After a few minutes of cooking, the soup is ready to serve.
For me, Oha soup is never complete without a matching swallow. I usually enjoy it with pounded yams or akpo. I love my Oha soup just warm, even after cooking, I allow it to cool a little before serving so it thickens more, as heat might make it loose. Preparing Oha soup has taught me that food is more than just nourishment; it is a way of preserving the identity of Eastern people and sharing joy with those you care about.
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