C'est Doux! : An Introduction to Food in Benin

You never really know a place until you’ve tasted its food. We imagine France as starlit evenings of wine, Nutella, baguettes, and escargot (but not all at once). It’s easy to conjure and image of dinners in Japan with Kobe steak, rice, and sushi (perhaps at once). And in the United States, we eat hamburgers, tacos, and take-out (if not all at once, you’re doing it wrong). Considering this tasty truism and my Peace Corps goal to share Beninese culture with Americans, I am happy to present to you [*drum roll*] Beninese food!

My PCV peers might be a little surprised at my enthusiastic presentation of Beninese cuisine. While they share my joy for sharing of Beninese culture with Americans, I assume many don’t think of food as a hot topic to write home about. The words I’ve heard that describe our culinary experience include the passive-aggressive “different” and “interesting,” the more upfront “invariant” and “boring,” as well as the all too desperate “pâte again???” I admit that the variety of dishes and flavors in Benin is not as great as in the United States. Beninese cuisine does, however, have a few redeeming factors. While they may not enhance the culinary experience per se, they grant reason to appreciate food consumption and production in Benin.

First, Beninese food is shareable. Let’s make a comparison. To make a sandwich, you need a good many ingredients but not very much of each. The sandwich is also made for individual consumption seeing as it’s difficult for both you and me to bite into one at the same time. Sure, loaves of bread and fridges of meat and veggies can all go a long way, but the overall experience is individualistic. On the other hand, Beninese staples like pâte and rice are much more easily shared, whether it’s for a bite or a meal. You can also more easily accommodate newcomers (be they guest or customer) while cooking, as it only takes another palmful of rice or corn flour to fill another plate.

Making pâte is a joyous experience

I’ve mentioned rice by itself, but in Benin it’s frequently paired with beans to make atassi. This pairing and its full package of essential amino acids is a classic in households and corner cafeterias alike, a true crowd-pleaser. You may be wondering, though, what that other staple I mentioned is. Pâte comes from corn flour cooked and rigorously (and I mean rigorously) stirred in boiling water. When done right it has a consistency somewhere between Jello and mashed potatoes. Pâte blanche (white) is the basic manifestation, but there is also rouge (red) and noire (black) which get their color and flavor from tomato and peanut sauces, respectively. Pâte is divisive in the Peace Corps crowd but is a point of robust pride among rural Beninese. It’s superbly filling and, like blue jeans, goes with everything. There’s a similar dish called akassa that is as sour as pâte is savory due to its employment of fermented corn flour. It’s also a little easier on the stomach in larger portions. Another favorite staple in central and northern Benin is igname pilée, or mashed yams. Imagine making mashed potatoes so heavy and filling that they become a meal in themselves.

A delicious, home-cooked meal of pâte, soja (tofu), and klen klen

Pâte, akassa, igname pilée and atassi are always paired with a sauce. That’s where Beninese cooks get creative with the likes of tomatoes, onions, and spices or even red palm nuts and peanuts. Most sauces are either tomato or peanut-based with added spices and vegetables. Local produce includes papaya, bananas, plantains, oranges, mangoes, okra, carrots, onions, cabbage, yams, cassava, sweet potatoes, amaranth, and -another Volunteer divider- klen klen. Klen klen leaves aren’t much larger than those of mint, but when whipped up take on unprecedented levels of viscosity and slime. The appropriate way to pair sauce with your staple is to pour the former over the latter or dip forkfuls of the latter in the former. With that we have the second lesson of Beninese cuisine: nothing is good all on its own, for everything has its complement.

I’ve already mentioned in passing the third lesson, and that’s the power of local food. While Benin imports most of its rice, tomato paste, and other processed foods like spaghetti, most vegetables and other staples come from local producers. There are even local processed favorites like wagasi cheese and soja. Wagasi cheese is often made by the nomadic Fula people from goat cheese and resembles mozzarella. Soja is local tofu and is often served as a snack or added to a meal for some tasty protein. Other proteins are often local as well, be they fish, goat, pork, chicken, or pheasant. In fact, meat on the dinner table may have belonged to your neighbor as late as that morning. By eating locally, Beninese consumers bolster the local economy and reduce the fuel consumption associated with importing large amounts of food. The women’s groups I work with are direct beneficiaries of local produce markets.

Benin may not have the flashiest cuisine, but it’s shareable, pairable, and primarily local. These lessons boil down to one: We are together. On est ensemble. Mî lƐ mianɖé. The flavors may not sweeten with time, but this lesson keeps on giving as I develop a sense of place and community at site. We are intertwined and responsible for one another, especially when it comes to filling plates and stomachs. This lesson strikes at the heart of my program’s food security mission and serves as a helpful reminder of my goals each time I sit down to eat. For that I am appreciative, almost as much as I am for garlic salt. Wow, that stuff is good.

Amaranth-tomato sauce with fish over rice. Much thanks to the women's

group for the local veggies and to my work counterpart for the recipe.

Addendum: What I Eat

When it comes to my eating habits, I have tried to cook the same things as my neighbors and in the same way. I use a clay stove with charcoal to prepare each of my meals, making good use of my outdoor kitchen. Nothing I make is 100% true to Beninese cuisine whether I try or not. For example, my pâte never comes out right and pales in comparison to my neighbors’. On the other hand, I add tons more vegetables to my sauces than is normal in Benin, which is attributable to both my knowledge of the importance of veggies and the pocketbook to back it up.

My daily meals are consistent. I regularly eat cassava porridge fortified with protein powder and powdered milk for breakfast, followed by an orange. Lunches and dinners rotate among pâte, fish and chips, atassi, rice, and spaghetti. Most dishes include a tomato or peanut sauce filled with diced sweet potatoes, onions, okra, and garlic. So much so that it becomes more of a dressing than a sauce. My spaghetti sauce is different, however, as it’s just klen klen with onions, garlic, and diced soja. (I call it Greenghetti.)

Cooking and shopping for myself has been an enjoyable experience, though a little frustrating from time to time when the charcoal won’t light, or lizards attack my chopped vegetables. I nonetheless revel in the chance to be creative and healthy with my meals. See my gallery below for a few kitchen creations:

Breakfast: ground cassava, protein powder, powdered milk, water

Atassi with tomato-based dressing feat. okra, onion, 

garlic, sweet potato, egg

Peanut sauce over rice feat. okra, onion, garlic, sweet potato

Greenghetti: klen klen with diced soja, onion, garlic

and topped with parsley and ground cassava (that is NOT salt)