Ivory Coast’s timeless culinary treasure, now granted UNESCO status
Along with Japanese sake, Thai shrimp soup and Caribbean cassava bread, Ataika, the national dish of Ivory Coast, has received United Nations cultural heritage status. But what makes this West African staple so popular? BBC Africa correspondent Myeni Jones grew up in Ivory Coast and calls herself a superfan.
One of my earliest childhood memories is of the vendors shouting “Attiké Chaud! Attiké Chaud!” Listening to singing. or “Hot etique!” As they strolled through the streets of my neighborhood, carrying large baskets of this national delicacy on their heads.
Fast forward 25 years and women still carry individually wrapped portions of fermented cassava couscous around Abidjan, Ivory Coast’s largest city, selling this now UNESCO-recognized delicacy.
An alternative to rice, it is difficult to find any hospitality venue in Ivory Coast that does not serve etiche. From the most basic eateries to luxurious restaurants and even on the beach, it is everywhere.
Etike’s popularity has spread beyond country borders, and is now found throughout Africa, especially in French-speaking countries.
It’s also very popular in neighboring Ghana and my home country Sierra Leone, where they have some unconventional serving suggestions.
Attike’s distinctive pungent flavor comes from cassava tubers mixed with fermented cassava, giving it its unique flavor and texture.
Cassava is grated, dried and then steamed before serving.
Filling and versatile, Ivorian chef Rose Traoré describes its texture as “similar to couscous, fluffy but grainy”.
Mr Traoré says the mild spiciness of attike gives a unique depth to food, perfectly balancing spicy or salty sauces.
For Ivorian chef Paule-Odile Beke, who competes in the UK TV program MasterChef: The Professionals, “sour, spicy and sweet” are the words that come to mind when she describes the taste of Attiké.
Gluten-free and available in various grain sizes, the finest are often the most expensive. Some places also sell red atari, which has been soaked in palm oil.
Eaten with a variety of dishes, the most popular version is grilled chicken or fish, a simple, spicy tomato-based sauce and a salsa of chopped tomatoes and onions.
This was one of the first dishes I cooked for my husband when we met 15 years ago. He liked it so much, he suggested we open a restaurant serving something similar.
Etike is simple, although traditionally it is reserved for special occasions like weddings and birthdays, but now people eat it every day.
Ms. Becke, who comes from a family of attic-builders, explained some of the specifics.
“Our attic will be a little more yellow than some other areas because of the proximity to the ocean,” he said.
A native of Jacksonville, a small coastal town where Attike is made, she features it prominently on the menus of her New York dinner clubs.
Although I left Ivory Coast at the age of 14 as civil unrest broke out, I was never able to leave Atikay.
In London, I used to travel miles to Congolese shops to dig bags of Attyke out of the permafrost at the bottom of a chest freezer, and collect it for dinner guests whom I could preach to.
When I moved to Nigeria, I ordered relatives to bring me care packages from Abidjan or Freetown, the capital of Sierra Leone.
This was one of the first things I saw when I moved to Johannesburg, South Africa, three months ago.
It’s always one of my first questions for any Ivorian I meet outside Ivory Coast where to find it.
Obviously it tastes delicious, but it’s hard to describe what makes Attyke so special.
“ATK is a dish that symbolizes solidarity,” says Ivorian chef Charlie Koffi.
Like injera, a fermented Ethiopian pancake, or thiboudien, a Senegalese rice and fish dish, etike is best enjoyed in a group.
Throughout Ivory Coast, friends and family will gather around a large plate, eat with their hands and wash it down with a cold beer or soft drink.
For me, it is also a memory of a childhood that was cut short. I was just 13 years old when, on Christmas Eve 1999, while I was waiting for my friends to come over to play, a military coup occurred in Ivory Coast.
While the soldiers were roaming around the city, shooting in the air and telling people to go indoors, my younger sister and I huddled together in the hallway, the only windowless space in our house. Went.
Our mother was stuck in the city, unable to join us.
Six months later, my mother sent us to the UK to live with our grandmother, fearing that there would be further unrest as a result of rising political tensions ahead of the 2000 presidential elections.
Just two years later, the country’s first civil war would break out, and it would take another 15 years for me to return to my childhood home.
But even when I couldn’t return to Babi (Abidjan’s nickname), Etike was always a way to connect with the place we left behind.
Even though I am not Ivorian, like many immigrants and economic migrants who came to the country during the prosperous decade of the 1990s, Ivory Coast is my home.
We all speak Nouchi, the French language that echoes in Ivorian music and the streets of its cities, and we all eat etique.
Ivory Coast has a way of making people feel at home and Attique is part of that.
When I finished university, I returned to Ivory Coast for a year to work for an international NGO.
While returning from an assignment in the west of the country, an Ivorian colleague explained that traditionally, etikay was mostly eaten with kedgenou, a rich, smoky stew made of tomatoes, onions and peppers.
It is slow cooked with local chicken or game in a clay pot over a wood fire, giving the dish a deep, savory flavour.
He claimed that it was only after the arrival of the French that the Ivorians began serving etikay with grilled fish and chicken.
This isn’t something I’ve been able to confirm, but it’s always true.
Ivorians, although very proud of their culture, have always been open to foreign influences in their cuisine and many regional dishes have become local staples.
Now that atikay has been added to the list of intangible cultural heritage in need of immediate protection, perhaps more people outside the region will become aware of this delicious dish.
Additional reporting by Danai Nesta Kupemba
