Food Porn – @TheTemitope

“I like food. I like eating. And I don’t want to deprive myself of good food.” – Sarah Michelle Gellar.

“You are what you eat.” – Ludwig Andreas Feuerbach.

“Man shall not live by bread alone.” – Jesus, before the existence of Pounded Yam and efo riro.

“A man who bites shaki with his eyes open fears no man” – Anonymous tweet.

“Pounded Yam isn’t the secret to fulfilling happiness. Happiness is the secret to fulfilling pounded yam.” – @TheTemitope

“The hand that poorly garnishes efo riro is a compliment of 99 problems.” – @TheTemitope

***

I felt like opening with a couple of food for thoughts. *silence* … POW! I’m sorry, that was probably unprofessional. I don’t know why I feed my mind with this junk. *side eye*

You never really forget those who were there for you during your dark days. If you have ever been desperate about something and you see a means to take you out of that desperation, you never forget the means.

Today, I shall give honour to whom it is due: Pounded Yam; or if you will, Iyan and efo riro. Let me bore you with a flash back that made my bond with pounded yam quite unbreakable.

I'm just sayin'
I’m just sayin’

I go back a couple of years, Sunday morning, and I can see myself partaking in children’s deliverance in my church (Name of church withheld). Now, the pastor has given specifics on what the deliverance entails – NO FOOD, NO WATER TILL 6:00PM, FOR TWO DAYS. Alakoba. Couple of hours into the deliverance, I’m home and I can’t wrap my head around why I can’t just swallow few seeds of chin-chin and wash it down with Caprisonne. My parents have guarded the kitchen with a lock and my mum has given the maid, Maggi (the spicy name wasn’t much help), strict instructions not to let me into the passage where little food is stored. My dad puts a bible in my hand and keeps hammering on ‘Man shall not live by bread alone’ but my mind can’t leave the agege bread in the passage alone.

As routine demands, mother has to prepare Sunday lunch (rice) but for some wicked reason, father decides he wants to try a different dish for lunch: Iyan and efo riro. Ika eniyan. Lunch is served at 1:30pm. Remember, my fast lasts till 6:00pm. I have to endure aroma, smacks of lips and sucking of teeth. The devil is a liar. I find every devious means to secure a little portion of mother’s Iyan for myself so I can run to one corner and gulp a few morsels. I even try to be extra nice to Maggi but no, Maggi didn’t budge. Then it hit me! “Daddy, remember the doctor said that I should finish using my malaria drugs before Monday?” “Don’t worry, God will protect you.” Drat! “Honey, let him use his drugs. He can continue his fasting on Monday, when there’s summer coaching”.

Ope o!!! Mother served my lunch like a professional. The pounded yam gave way in the middle; there was enough space for the efo riro to rest comfortably, coating the Iyan with luster and crowning the dish like the king of morsel food. Two pieces of meat – one shaki, one bokotor – jutted out from the surface of the plate, staring at me, beckoning me to prove my worth if I was man enough to take them all in. Imagine a dramatic moment of Enya’s Adiemus playing in my stomach as I broke my fast. The song welcoming the food, swallow by swallow, into a cave of famished innards. No, just imagine. That day marked the inception of me claiming my Ekiti origin with pride.

Now, get me wrong if you like but I am not saying other morsel food like Amala, Eba, Semo or the likes of Rice, Beans or some white man delicacy isn’t equally as good. I’m just saying Pounded Yam is nowhere near their class as it is utterly superior and God has crowned its existence with success and royalty. Iyan lo’ba.

The compliment a well garnished vegetable plays on an ample mound of Pounded yam is appealing. With an aware sense of my heritage, I always approach a bowl of Iyan with caution. I know the right areas to pinch and puncture to watch out for cancerous lumps that may hinder the pleasure that gives way to my satisfaction. There is always a tender moment between fingering my Iyan and putting it in my mouth. Just at the interim of oral pleasure, I tend to smile, knowing that nothing in life is really worth the hassle. I let my tongue rove around the hot but damp cocktail of organic delicacy. Swirling in mouth at that time is usually the secret of lasting happiness; I ignore my gag reflexes because I don’t need it to take the substance all in. I actually swallow. Just then, I know that process is going to happen again and I look forward to it. It doesn’t matter the stream of sweat dripping all over my body because it is at this point I take my clothes off for optimal effect of the pleasure that lurks within my organs.

Everything a relationship with a gold digging whore can give me, Iyan can give me far better. Is it breasts you want to quave and check for lumps? Iyan is far more succulent to feel, the lumps of a good Iyan are hardly existent and even if they are, they don’t take split seconds to be discovered. Can you finger your girl’s breast and bite out the lumps? OHO!

If your girl threatens to let you sleep on the couch alone or threatens to leave your ass, let her go. There’s somebody that will never threaten to leave you and will pleasure your oral cavity, down to your stomach and might even give you little stiffs of erection depending on how deep you are in the mood. Who’s that person? *points mic to the crowd* “IYAN!

Pounded yam

You can’t put a price on good taste. A girl will come, take your money and pleasure another man. Iyan will take your money quite alright but will never pleasure another man. The eventual feeling of being fulfilled is when that vegetable escorts that mashed yam down your throat. Now, efo riro can come in Afang or Edikaikong, don’t fret. It’s just almost as glorifying. Just make sure you know where your loyalty lies – Pounded Yam.

Now it would be wrong to talk about Pounded Yam and not mention its next of kin, Fufu. I’ll give honour to whom honour is due. Though, fufu’s achievement isn’t as epic as Iyan’s, I will admit that she’s an occasional hot dish of excitement, too. It’s just, no matter what; you can never forget your first love. You can cheat, you can keep a concubine but in the end, you will always come home to where your heart lies.

The kind of fufu to take you off the streets and into the sheets fam...
The kind of fufu to take you off the streets and into the sheets fam…

The activities I engage in with Iyan however, are unrivalled.

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15 thoughts on “Food Porn – @TheTemitope

  1. LOL.. I only had efo riro, for the first time ever, yesterday. Reading this made my tummy happy, again. I’m looking forward to preparing the iyan and efo riro goodness myself

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  2. LOL…. this is like d best so far and I must say iyan is actually an epic meal *drools* wish I cud hav some rite nw……. and pls poundo yam is different from pounded yam 😐 *in panadol advert voice* if e no be pounded yam, e no fit be lyk pounded yam

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  3. This is one of the best posts around here , If not the Best . Maintained the Hilarity ( The Purpose of the blog ) And The Title of The Series (Food PORN ) Good One .

    Like

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