African flavors on the rise: spices and stories from the continent

Jollof rice with stew. Photo by Noahalorwu, cropped from original. License: CC BY-SA 4.0

This vibrant, orange-hued marvel has been seducing palates all over the world for years. At its core, jollof rice is simple — grains soaked in a luscious, spiced tomato sauce that sings with sweet, smoky, and subtly fiery notes. Deceptively straightforward, it holds an almost sacred status in West Africa, where a gathering without this shiny creation is just a dull meeting. It’s the indispensable centerpiece at everything from weddings to festivals. Yes, jollof’s charm lies in its minimalism, yet it demands precision and patience. One detail not to miss is kanzo — the prized, crispy, slightly charred crust at the bottom of the pot — imparting a complex smoky, nutty, and caramelized undertone that takes this dish from great to unforgettable.

Tracing its origins to the 14th-century Wolof Empire in the Senegambian region — modern-day Senegal and the Gambia — it has since spread far and wide, inspiring regional variations and a notorious culinary rivalry between Nigeria and Ghana. This “Jollof Wars” saga is as much a cultural anthem as a gastronomic debate. As the dish’s fame skyrockets, TikTok kitchen enthusiasts as well as renowned chefs craft their own renditions, further diversifying the recipes. 

Many chefs love to reinvent this dish for glossy restaurant menus, but if you want that just-as-it-should-be flavor, save this address. When you’re hunting down proper jollof rice in London, this one hits just right. Tucked away in vibrant Peckham, The Flygerians is run by two sisters on a mission to share real Nigerian fare, inspired by their grandma’s recipes — so you know you’re in for the true taste, no bland substitutes. The small, welcoming café serves bold, spicy street food: supa dupa hot wings, cassava chips with crayfish ketchup, suya beef skewers, ayamase with basmati rice. Their jollof box is delicious on its own, but you can load it up with suya chicken or beef, prawns, spinach, squid, or fried fish if you’re feeling extra. For dessert, treat yourself to plantain ice cream.

Bunny chow. Photo from Goodies Restaurant, Dubai. Source: https://www.facebook.com/Goodiesrest

Bunny chow, an Indian dish actually born in South Africa, involves exactly zero rabbit, despite the misleading name. In fact, this ingenious street food is an aromatic, fiery curry served in a “bowl” of hollowed-out white bread. The name comes from a twist on “bania,” the caste of Indian merchants who brought it to life. One story goes that bunny chow started as a clever workaround during apartheid, when black South Africans weren’t allowed to eat in certain restaurants. The bread acted as a holder — no plates to return, no cutlery needed. Usually filled with lamb, chicken, or beans for a vegetarian fix, it’s made to be eaten with your hands: just tear off chunks of bread and scoop up the rich, savory curry. Simple, smart, and still one of Durban’s greatest comfort foods.

Durban Curry Café, tucked inside the multi-cuisine dining space of Goodies Restaurant in Dubai, dishes up what might be the most faithful bunny chow outside Durban itself. Picture this: a proper lamb, chicken, or bean curry packed into a quarter loaf of pillowy fresh bread, with carrot salad on the side for crunch and conscience. Once you’ve scooped out every last spicy morsel, you’ll know — this one is the benchmark.

Ask any South African expat in town, and they’ll nod knowingly: it tastes just like back home. Alongside the star of the show, you’ll find a line-up of peri peri in all its glorious variations — chicken, prawns, calamari — plus crisp samosas and roti rolls. The venue offers an Italian corner too, but don’t let the folks politely twirling spaghetti stop you from doing this the right way: a bunny chow demands bare hands, stained fingers, and zero shame — the way it was meant to be.

Bobotie, South African dish. Photo by Olga Ernst, cropped from original. License: CC BY-SA 4.0

Bobotie is a luscious, deep-dish casserole, often compared to meatloaf — though once you taste it, you’ll see it plays in a different league. True to its Cape Malay soul, it comes alive with the heady warmth of curry, turmeric, and cinnamon, then surprises you with sweet pops of raisins. Traditionally, minced beef or lamb is spiced and sautéed with onions, then crowned with a silky mix of milk and beaten eggs that bakes into a golden, custardy crust. It’s typically served with yellow rice, tangy chutney, and a bit of sambal on the side.

Born of Dutch roots but fully claimed by the Cape Malay kitchen, bobotie is now widely accepted as South Africa’s national dish. And every spoonful hides a slice of colonial history: back in the 17th century, the Dutch East India Company anchored at the Cape of Good Hope, where enslaved people from Indonesia, Malaysia, and India folded their fragrant spices into the European staples of their colonizers.

If you’re going to taste bobotie where it was born, do it properly. The Conservatory at the Cellars-Hohenort Hotel & Spa in Cape Town is a pocket of Cape history, with centuries-old camphor trees that could tell you better stories than any local tour guide. This estate’s roots run over 300 years deep: once the domain of the chief surgeon of the Dutch East India Company, it is stitched into Constantia’s winemaking legacy and colonial tales.

Today, The Conservatory unfolds around a glass atrium, where floor-to-ceiling windows pull in the manicured lawns outside. The kitchen nods to South African staples brushed with a cosmopolitan touch. Their Cape Malay bobotie is a must — rich and golden, made either with tender Karoo lamb or a vegetarian twist of mushrooms and lentils. Among other delights to try are South Atlantic tuna tartare with toasted sesame, grilled catch of the day with velvety pea risotto, and braised short ribs.

Ethiopian wat. Photo by stu_spivack, cropped from original. License: CC BY-SA 2.0

Now drifting east across the continent, we land in Ethiopia to savor doro wat — deeply spiced chicken stew that gathers families for big celebrations and brings fasting seasons to a delicious finale. It is a slow-simmered tangle of tender chicken, caramelised onions, berbere (a fragrant blend of chili, garlic, ginger, and a few secrets), and niter kibbeh (signature spiced clarified butter). Right before serving, in go the hard-boiled eggs to soak up all that fire and richness. Traditionally, injera bread is the only utensil here, perfectly designed to scoop up every last bite. The true soul of the dish lies in berbere, that aromatic mix capable of murmuring Silk Route legends into your plate — should you have the patience to listen. The whole preparation is anything but quick and breezy, and in Ethiopia, they’ll tell you straight: you’ll never find a respectable husband if you can’t master a proper doro wat.

Little Ethiopia in Berlin says it all in the name. This tiny, sweet spot draped in cultural trinkets and homely clutter, is the sort of place that feels like you’ve stumbled into someone’s slightly cramped living room. Give it five minutes, though, and you’re wrapped in genuine hospitality, plus plates of honest-to-goodness Ethiopian cooking that cost less than your last overpriced latte.

Their doro wat is the hero here: tender chicken drumsticks swimming in a bold, spicy sauce, crowned with a proper hard-boiled egg. Otherwise, try key wot, which is juicy beef in a peppery sauce with fresh salad and cheese, and kitfo, a deeply seasoned, tartare-like treat. Vegans don’t get sidelined, either. But honestly, beyaynetu — a colourful spread of lentil stews, braised greens, and bright veggies all laid out beautifully on injera bread — is a must, even if you’re not a plant-based eater. Grab an Ethiopian beer to wash it all down and roll out, well-fed and ready to spread the word about this secret spot.

Flame-grilled PERi-PERi chicken. Photo by Banej, cropped from original. License: CC BY-SA 4.0

Roasted peri peri chicken, hailing from Mozambique, has turned into a global phenomenon, especially appreciated by those who like to spice things up. The main star here is the sauce, which has fun variations in spelling (piri-piri or pili-pili) and means “pepper-pepper” in Swahili, a Bantu language spoken in East Africa. The name refers to the African Bird’s Eye chili, discovered by Portuguese explorers in the 15th century. They incorporated it into their cuisine and created a unique sauce combining it with European ingredients like garlic, lemon, and vinegar. That’s why you’ll often see the dish described as Portuguese-African. Peri peri is definitely spicier than your go-to jalapeño but doesn’t overwhelm the flavors. The chicken, marinated in this sauce before being grilled, comes out punchy, bright-colored, and complex.

When Portugal’s African colonies claimed their independence, they gifted the Portuguese palate with an unshakeable love for peri peri. Decades on, this fiery staple is still beloved across the country, and in Lisbon, the gold standard sits quietly off the tourist trail at A Valenciana. This old-school spot has been grilling up benchmark peri peri chicken since the 1970s. The interior is simple and won’t win you over, but what lands on your plate absolutely will. Their charcoal-grilled chicken, its smokiness cut through with a zesty sauce, is pure bliss. But you could hardly resist other temptations on the menu: think generous cuts of meat sizzling on the grill and Portuguese staples like bacalhau à brás. Keep in mind, the place is always packed with locals, so best to book ahead.

Suya. Photo by Tope Asokere, cropped from original. License: CC BY-SA 2.0

If you’re the type who worships kebabs, skewers, and all the flame-licked joy that comes with them, then suya is your next inevitable obsession. Probably Nigeria’s most beloved street-side staple, it shows up sizzling on pretty much every corner in Lagos. Traditionally, beef takes the spotlight, but chicken, goat, or lamb don’t shy away either, all generously rubbed down with a tangy, nutty spice blend called yaji before getting threaded onto skewers and met by open flames until they pick up that ideal crunch. What you get is a mash-up of spicy, slightly sweet, and umami notes.

As you might already be thinking — yes, a cold beer pairs beautifully with this dish. Though some say a splash of whiskey works just as well. Born centuries ago with the Hausa of Northern Nigeria, suya started as a clever way to preserve meat on long journeys — and now it takes you on a journey straight into the heart of West African gastronomy.

Afrobeat Kitchen is a gem of a find in Toronto, serving modern West African treats in a space that buzzes with an infectious, feel-good energy. Think lofty ceilings, exposed brick, a lively bar, and a sweet little back patio decked out with rattan chairs and fairy lights for those warmer nights. The soundtrack is on point, and the staff are utterly charming. Their sticky suya is something else — glazed in hot honey and that signature fiery yaji spice mix, it’s impossible not to fall for. Party jollof with your choice of protein (chicken, beef, or shrimp), egusi with pounded yam, and Fisherman’s Market rice, bursting with an incredible seafood medley, are excellent, authentic delights that transport you deep into Africa’s culinary soul. Inventive cocktails with hibiscus notes perfectly match the vibe. 

Pounded yam and melon soup (egusi). Photo by Bukky658. License: CC BY-SA 4.0

Another Nigerian staple is egusi soup. If you spent any time on TikTok a while back, you’ll remember the fufu-and-egusi videos doing the rounds. Trends come and go, but this dish stays put, as it has for centuries. Basically, the word “egusi” refers to the protein-rich seeds of melon, which are dried, ground, and cooked down into what’s called a soup — though it’s really closer to a thick, hearty stew. Egusi paste is fried in hot palm oil to develop its flavour and form tasty lumps. Meanwhile, assorted meats and fish are prepared separately or added directly to the pot, then combined with sautéed onions, ground crayfish, and spices, while leafy greens go in towards the end. It’s typically served with fufu: a doughy, neutral-tasting mound made from cassava, yams, or plantain, designed for scooping up the sauces. Expect earthy, unfamiliar flavours — a gem for curious eaters willing to venture beyond the usual.

Nneji is a tiny neighborhood shop and takeaway telling beautiful stories from the African continent, right in the middle of New York City. Impossible not to mention the name: Nneji could be loosely translated as “mother,” but it carries a deeper meaning — a connection to one’s roots, something like “may I never forget where I come from.” Apparently, Beatrice Ajaero, the force behind this soulful spot, hasn’t forgotten a thing. Together with her family, she dishes out beloved staples just the way they’re meant to be. Their egusi soup with pounded yam already has its own little cult following, but other delights don’t fall behind: think yassa chicken, red beef stew, okra and spinach with chicken or salmon, mixed meat jollof rice, and lamb tajine. Everything’s freshly and lovingly made — guaranteed to warm your heart way more than you’d ever expect from a takeaway box. 

Poulet yassa. Photo by Arnaud 25, cropped from original. License: CC0

Yassa takes its name from the Wolof word “yaxa” (to cook with onions), which pretty much tells you upfront what you’re in for: onions, and lots of them. This Senegalese classic is all about that slow, caramelized sweetness that wraps itself around tender meat — usually chicken — and delivers mild, layered flavors. Traditionally, the chicken gets a good soak in a bright marinade of lemon juice, Dijon mustard, garlic, and spices before it’s cooked down, low and patient, with a mountain of onions until the meat practically slides off the bone. A heap of plain white rice comes along to balance the sweet-sour sauce. If you detect a subtle French accent in the recipe, you’re not wrong. Emerging from centuries of colonial influence, the dish is the product of two culinary traditions, where the delicate technique of French cookery is intertwined with the bold flavors of West Africa.

Housed in a former toy factory, Waly-Fay keeps its industrial-chic edge with exposed brick, metal fixtures, and warm lighting. Tucked away in the 11th arrondissement, it has been teleporting palates to Africa long before it was trendy, all inside a relaxed, moody space that’s always humming with an in-the-know crowd. This bistro-style stalwart has been championing Senegalese and West African cooking for decades.

Yassa chicken is one of their signature delights, boasting well-earned accolades from regulars. After this phenomenal treat, served with a side of fiery sauce, you’ll have no doubt about coming back — and it’s a good call, because there’s plenty to explore: Cameroonian stew n’dolé with shrimp, Senegalese thieboudienne, and West African maffé kandj beef in rich peanut sauce. On the grill, you’ll find sea bream, mixed skewers, or chicken, and for dessert, sweet potato mousse with hibiscus coulis will tie it all together perfectly.

We hope we’ve sparked your curiosity and fired up your appetite with this lineup of delectable African dishes to try in 2025. Don’t hesitate to share your own favorite finds, whether it’s an under-the-radar specialty or a restaurant worth crossing the world for.