 Badou Senegalese Cuisine
When I think of the best Senegalese meals I've ever had—the preb maggi I savored on my last night in Touba; the tamarind-rich moosa mabnabni fed to me by a magical child on the bank of the River Gambie; the whole warthog carcass I was forced to eat after losing a game of chance at Youssou N'Dour's house—why, it's impossible to pick a favorite. The flavors, the sensory pleasures, and the memories all swirl about to form something much more alluring than can be explained by mere meats or starches.
Aw, who am I kidding, I know jerk shit about Senegalese food, and so I am the last person to give you any insight into it, even though I may be the first person to bring it up to you. Like most African cuisines, there's a lot of geographical and culinary nuance to it that I'd have to brush up on before I could give you an informed opinion of the wonderful Badou. So I will simply proceed to give you an ill-informed one: Badou is charming as fuck, delicious as fuck, and you should go there right now.
Tucked into a little strip mall on Howard, Badou is like eating in your new Senegalese best friend's own… uhhhh … yurt, or whatever. It's modest in the best of ways: super homey, relaxed, and utterly hospitable. The owner is also the cook and the server, so if you're like me and new to Senegalese food, it's an ideal place to dip your toe in the water. But careful, there may be piranhas! What, I mean, it's Africa, right? Jeez. I had the yassa jerk, about $15 or so. Blackened jerk chicken with a mound of amazingly carmelized onions and rice; simple as can be, but gah damn delicious. In retrospect I'd wished I'd been a little more adventurous and gone with one of the stunning-looking fish entrées, but as the man says, you pays your money and you places your bets. 🤷 No regrets, though. I'll just have to go back a little older, a little wiser, and wearing a dashiki. See how quickly I am a learner?
Review by Wimpempy Tarlisle, March 2019 |
