Tell me another thing that is worse than spilling jollof rice_ I mean spilling it on a fine man in white
OH MY GOD!!!, I'm so...…
Hot! he interrupted, glancing at his stained shirt like it was a crime scene. Literally, and in case you're wondering, I mean the rice,not me
The crowd in front of my food stall chuckled and i wished the ground would swallow me whole_ preferably with the pot of rice too
it wasn't my fault. Well... maybe it was a little bit of my fault .
I had been trying to show off my perfect food plating skill for the lady from Lagos Foodie Magazine, when my elbow bumped the edge of the tray and sent a perfectly sauced spoonful flying in the air
You're probably wondering how I ended up here, standing in the middle of the university food fair,holding a spoon like a weapon and staring at the man whose white shirt I just redecorated with jollof rice.
My name is Aisha Bello, I'm twenty-two years old, a final year student of English and literary studies of Lagos state university also known as 'LASU' , I'm a small town girl with big dreams and I have an obsession with getting jollof rice smoky enough to make angels cry, I've been cooking since I can see over my mom's kitchen counter, I started with cooking for my family, then for the neighbors when they have parties and now for anyone willing to pay for a plate. My little catering business isn't fancy,but it's mine and it's growing faster than my CGPA(which honestly isn't saying much)
Today was suppose to be my big break. A chance to wow food lovers, charm a few taste buds and maybe even catch the attention of the right audience. Instead, I'm watching a spoonful of my dreams drip down the starched white Kaftan shirt of the last man I should be feding like this
Tobi Bakare.... even if you don't know his face, you've probably read his words. Food critic for Lagos Foodie Magazine, a social media firebrand and self-proclaimed "defender of the Nigeria palate". He's the type who could spend three paragraphs describing why your puff puff is not fluffy enough and was a total mistake and somehow make you agree with him
He's Tall, polished, with the kind of confidence that says I know I'm important and you should too, he had a reputation for being brutally honest, the sort of man whose review could turn a small business into a burning sensation
And now he was, looking at me... and the bright orange stain blooming across his chest
He blinked once, then smiled faintly. "Hot".
"The rice ?" I asked
"The rice" he said, letting the pause stretch."And maybe the chef"
My mouth went dry, I was used to costomers complimenting my food, but from Tobi Bakare, it felt like a plot twist I wasn't ready for
I'm so sorry, I blurted, grabbing a serviette and trying to dab at the mess, which only made the stain look like abstract work of art. I swear I'm not usually this… reckless
Don't worry, he said smoothly. Accidents happen. Although…He tilted his head, studying me the way people study a menu before deciding if it's worth the price. "Some accidents are more… memorable than others
I wasn't sure if he was flirting or warning me. Possibly both
Around us, the food fair buzzed — laughter, sizzling oil, the distant beat of Afrobeats from the drinks stand. My friend Zainab, who had been manning the grill, shot me a what-are-you-doing? look. I shot her back a please-save-me look.
But before she could intervene, Tobi reached into his pocket, pulled out a card, and placed it on my counter.
You should send me a plate, he said. For proper review
He walked away, leaving the faint scent of cologne, a trail of whispers from curious onlookers and me, clutching his business card like it was both an opportunity and a bomb waiting to go off.