B is for Burkina Faso

So, it’s only week two of this challenge and already I’m finding it difficult to choose from the vast array of dishes that are being served up to me during my internet research. When it came to checking countries that start with ‘B’, I was surprised and not unreasonably ashamed of how few countries I remembered that start with ‘B’, of which there are 17. 17 is a sizeable pile of places, that much I hope we can agree on. However, there is no excuse for the fact that I more or less got stuck at Belgium. I even forgot some absolute whoppers, including – embarrassingly - Brazil (shhh, don’t tell anyone).

BUT there is a good reason my scatterbrain only just made it across the Channel to, in my eyes, one of the most undeservedly overlooked countries this side of Poland: somehow, I ended up living there for a year or so…which was a surprise, even to me. Ever since, I have harboured an all-consuming love for all that is Belgian. Food-wise, this tiny wee country is punching way above its weight: sensational waffles, exemplary chocolate, supreme beers, proper hearty stews, EVERYTHING ‘speculoos’ flavoured (think caramelly, cinnamon-y gastronomical glory) and the crowning glory, ‘frietjes’ (Belgian fries) with Joppiesaus. Guys, do yourselves a favour and get yourselves some Joppie. And while you’re at it, order me some too!

Despite this being the obvious choice for the ‘B’ week, lo and behold, I took a quick hop, skip and airplane ride over to Africa; more specifically, to the landlocked West African nation of Burkina Faso. As with many African countries, it’s been through the mill in the past, and continues to be put through it today - please don’t take this as me being flippant with regards to the country’s issues. However, this isn’t the time or place for an in-depth look into its struggles with colonisation, development and political turmoil. For that, I suggest you venture off and consult a source of actual authority. Not me.

So let’s get down to the food. I have to say, I was expecting there to be a certain flair de la cuisine française permeating Burkinabe (yep, that’s a new one for me too) cuisine. Obviously I wasn’t anticipating everything being cooked in great swathes of butter and lashings of cream, but a nod to the colonial past is something I’ve seen in the dishes of other formerly colonised nations. However, BF – I can say that ‘cos we’re friends now – seems to have eschewed any form of French frou-frou with a very firm hand. No doubt that has a lot to do with availability of both ingredients and the moola for them, but I also enjoy the thought of them being like ‘Nahhhh thanks, we’ll sort our own food out – we don’t need your baguettes or nothin!’.

Burkinabe cuisine is pretty similar to those in a lot of other West African nations: sorghum is big news, as are millet, rice, potatoes, beans and a whole host of veggies. But friends, the most exciting news is peanuts. Yes yes, peanuts are one of the headline acts in West African cuisine and I, dear reader, am a big fan. I’m not exaggerating when I say I eat peanut butter every day, in some manifestation or another. Normally, it’s just by the spoonful while I sit and contemplate how many cats I can feasibly fit in my flat. But in the spirit of this project, I decided to do away with the norm and set my sights on the wonderfully vague-sounding ‘West African peanut stew’, roping in a trusty gal pal to help me hoover up the results.

Well, they certainly weren’t messing around on the peanut front. I ended up chucking in a solid cup of PB into a pan, along with a big blob of tomato puree, stock and healthy amounts of fresh ginger and garlic. Chilli, of course, also made an appearance in the form of harissa paste (technically North African but we’ll gloss over that for now). Then it seemed to be a case of ‘throw in whatever the heck is kicking around in your veg box and looks like it’s about to start turning unattractive shades of yellow’. I opted for a big, beautiful Savoy cabbage and the final scrapings of a box of frozen spinach (which we all have in our freezers, come on). Oh boy, what a smashing result! Turns out that tomato and peanut are the perfect bedfellows, and the copious amounts of ginger and garlic packed a very welcome punch to the whole shebang. I’d even put myself out there and say that I could have gone for a bit more ginger – wild, I know – but as it stands, this dish was a hit. Good work, BF!

Just a word on why I plumped for Burkina Faso. Some years ago, during an intense round of ‘Who can name the most African countries and capitals?’ (normal normal normal), some friends and I came upon the frankly unparalleled Ouagadougou, the capital of Burkina Faso. Roll that name around your mouth for a while; consider how wonderfully far-away and unknown it sounds; how utterly enjoyable the perfect sequence of vowels and consonants is. Since that day, I’ve never forgotten it and I’m unlikely ever to do so. Say it with me folks: Ouagadougou. See what I mean?

This peanut party post is dedicated to my fellow peanut butter enthusiast, Shelley Pascual, freelance journalist and adventurer extraordinaire. Check out her super swish blog at https://shelleypascual.wordpress.com/