I remember growing up as a child and adoring pounded yam. The smooth and fluffy texture and the satisfying stretchiness as you dip it into the soup are just exciting; it's a beloved dish across all tribes in Nigeria. Pounded yam holds a special place in our hearts and is often served on important occasions. Despite the joy of eating it, the preparation process can be quite overwhelming. As I grew older, my enthusiasm for pounded yam waned, until one particular Christmas.
Before I share my memorable experience from that particular Christmas, I'd like to explain why my love for pounded yam diminished. It's not that it lost its delicious taste, but as I grew up and was tasked with pounding the yam, I realized that before pounded yam becomes that fluffy and soft swallow everyone loves, it has to undergo continuous pounding for several minutes. This process usually leaves the pounder exhausted, and most of the time, after pounding, one tends to lose their appetite or become unable to eat much due to how tiring the preparation was.
If you thought that I was being greedy or jealous, I can't say that you're wrong. That's probably how I felt at the time. I love to sit and eat when someone else undergoes the stress of preparing a meal, but I don't want to do the same for others to enjoy. I found myself feeling jealous when I saw the satisfied expressions on the faces of those enjoying the meal that I had exhausted myself to prepare but couldn't eat.
Not to bore you with that aspect of my life, let's delve into the actual focal point of this write-up. I was informed by my mom over the phone that we would be celebrating Christmas at my grandparents' place. Instead of coming home after a vacation from college, I was told to travel to Granny's place because it's closer to my university than my parents' house. This memorable Christmas day is something I've sometimes talked about in my blog, but those were based on different experiences of what transpired that day, not about the food, as this write-up will be focused on.
I'm extremely excited for three reasons. Firstly, I'll get to see my grandparents again after two years. Secondly, it's Christmas at their place, so it's a family reunion and get-together. Lastly, I can't wait to taste my grandmother's delicious cooking once more. Although most of our extended family usually gathers at their place, Grandma still insists on cooking for everyone once in a while. We all look forward to her meals, and all of the women can't help but follow her every step in the kitchen so they can learn her recipes for cooking delicious meals.
On the day before Christmas, Grandma decided to prepare dinner for everyone. As always, most of the women were with her, helping with different tasks and taking a keen interest in her recipes. While all of that was going on, I sat in the living room and watched the young ones sit around Grandpa's feet as he told numerous stories and tales. I found myself eavesdropping and becoming engrossed in his storytelling.
But before the story comes to an end, dinner is ready. Grandpa knows how much Grandma loves for everyone to eat dinner early, so he postpones the story. Since the dinner table couldn't contain everyone, we spread out mats on the floor of the living room and sat in circles. The food was served: pounded yam and efo riro. It was the most sumptuous and delicious meal I've ever eaten to this day. Every single one of us couldn't get enough of the delicious soup and the softness of the pounded yam.
It seems like everyone enjoyed the meal. Even my younger brother, who rarely eats much, asked for more. It was funny to see how satisfied everyone was. My uncle, who is known for his love of food, ate three wraps of pounded yam and is still hoping that someone will say they are full so he can have more.
It was a very memorable and enjoyable day because even after the meal, we all still sat down on the mat and discussed different issues, but mostly gave room for the elders to talk, and by the elders, I mean our grandparents, who continuously share tales about their lives, time in the village, and how they met themselves. As we listened, we're both entertained, enlightened, and inspired by their life's ordeals.
If we had known that last Christmas would be our final one together with them, we would have surely cherished and taken every moment more seriously, as we had such a wonderful time. Looking back, I can confidently say that my last memory of them was thrilling and one that I wouldn't trade for anything.
And the food I ate that very day was the best I've heard throughout my life, and I remember how I usually teased my mom about how grandma was a better cook than she was, and he'd be like, It's high time you move back to grandma's place. Well, that's about it.
Thanks so much for your time. Have a wonderful day ahead.
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