The ancient lore of the humble Nigerian yam

Delicious, nutritious yam is revered by Nigerians worldwide in festivals and cultural rites. But its legacy is evolving; today's Nigerian chefs are cooking it in brand new ways.

Across Nigeria and its global diaspora, one crop reigns supreme: the yam. Resembling logs with their cylindrical shape and thick bark-like skins, yams have fuelled Nigerian and wider West African communities for millennia. However, the humble yam is far more than just a nutritional source. Revered at New Yam festivals, central to ancient oral storytelling traditions and a key component of many cultural rites, yam is not only integral to local cuisine; it weaves together the vibrant and intricate tapestry of the country's cultural identity.

But yam's legacy is evolving; today's Nigerian chefs worldwide are honouring the root vegetable with traditional and experimental approaches alike. 

"Yam really is the king of crops!" said chef Tolu Erogbogbo, when I asked him about his childhood memories of the starchy, ivory-fleshed tuber. Christened with the playful moniker "the billionaire's chef" due to his clientele of prominent international figures (including the likes of Emmanuel Macron and Lauryn Hill), Erogbogbo has founded contemporary West African eateries across Nigeria and Los Angeles, but he has never forgotten the familiar, delicious comfort of yam, or its important symbolism. "On Sundays we'd always have egg sauce, served with lovely soft yam," he said, recalling the beloved Nigerian breakfast where scrambled eggs are stewed with tomatoes and sweet red peppers; mixed with salty fresh or tinned fish (or corned beef); and then seasoned with onions, a tricolour of local chillies and dried local spices like the fiery Cameroon pepper.

The jiggling heap of scrambled eggs, made juicy by the tomatoes, is perfectly complemented by the mellow sweetness of fluffy boiled yam. But as Erogbogbo explained, the dish, known simply as "yam and egg sauce", is not just a weekend treat. "It's all about ushering in a positive new week," he said. "This is because yam symbolises wealth and prosperity."  

This important symbolism is why yam tubers can still be found piled high amidst the pomp and pageantry of Nigerian weddings worldwide, where they represent abundance. Yam also represents fertility; Nigeria's high twin birth rate is believed by many locals to be due to high levels of yam consumption. Indeed, yam is a constant presence in Nigerian folktales, such as that of the Ìrókò tree spirit who women beseeched with yams to cure infertility, a story that left me wide-eyed whenever my mother sang it to me as a child before bed. Yam's cultural significance continues in the plethora of allegorical proverbs across Nigerian cultures that are used to pass down cultural norms and wisdom. I won't be the only Ẹ̀gbọ́n (title for older sibling) who was reminded of my responsibilities with the Yorùbá language adage, "a bachelor who roasts his yam shares it with his sheep" – one should always look after their own.

The veneration of yams is most deeply seen and felt at Nigeria's annual yam festivals. Between June and October, as the rainy season ebbs, many of Nigeria's several hundred ethnic groups commemorate the harvest of new yams. From Leboku, the multi-week extravaganza held by the Yakurr people of Cross River State, to Odun Ijesu among the Yorùbás of Ikere-Ekiti in south-western Nigeria, most festivities involve frenetic masquerades, thunderous choruses of prayer, kaleidoscopic parades and plenty of synchronised dance and drumming.

These performances honour agricultural and fertility deities, but some rites have evolved to incorporate Christian worship in the wake of colonialism and globalisation. While there are many parallels between the celebrations, region-specific nuances set the festivals apart. For instance, in the town of Ogidi, Kogi State, you'll find Yorùbá bata dancers decked in indigo-dyed àdìrẹ garments and traditional female drummers singing oríkì (praise poetry), their bodies wrapped in a rainbow of handwoven aṣọ òkè cloth.

A particularly prominent New Yam Festival is Iri Ji (Igbo for "new yam eating"). To ward off misfortune, all yams from the previous harvest must be consumed before tucking into the new bounty. Iri Ji is not only celebrated in Igboland (Southeastern Nigeria); from America to Poland, Igbo communities gather in town halls and community centres to commemorate the new harvest. Alongside modern developments such as online streaming and TikTok vlogs of the celebrations, ancient rituals remain, such as enjoying smoky roasted yam with fresh West African palm oil – as red and glossy as stained glass.

But as sacred as yam is to Nigerian identity and folklore, the most enduring yam ritual will forever be simply eating it.

"Yam is extremely versatile. It can be pounded, boiled, fried, roasted… there are so many ways to enjoy it," said restaurateur Aji Akokomi, explaining the inclusion of yams on the ever-changing menu at his restaurant Akoko, a West African fine-dining restaurant in London that was awarded its first Michelin star this year. "At Akoko, we've made yam croquettes topped with truffles, and we're adding pounded yam with egusi soup and monkfish."

Yam dishes are also found at Akara, Akokomi's more casual sibling restaurant. "There we make yams into this delicious sauce served with barbecued pork and fermented scotch bonnet." 

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Subtly scented, yam is well-suited to complementing more robust flavours, making it an apt canvas for chefs to showcase creativity and technical flair. For Adenike Adefila, a chef at the first fine-dining pan-African restaurant in Abuja, The Burgundy, yam is the perfect indigenous vessel for applying techniques from her French and Italian culinary training. For instance, she forms yam into pillowy gnocchi served with a rich tomato relish finished with cream. "We also layer very thinly sliced yam and soak it overnight in whey with cardamom and ehuru (calabash nutmeg)," she said, explaining the process behind her yam gratin. Served with a velvety palm nut béchamel and sautéed spinach, it's a clever take on the traditional pairing of yam with fresh red palm oil.

Yam ingenuity continues at Chishuru in London, where chef Adejoké Bakare, the first black woman in the UK to be awarded a Michelin star, has served her take on àsáró; a Yorùbá pottage of sweet yam stewed and mashed into a spiced tomato and red pepper reduction served with smoked eel and purple sprouting broccoli.

Back in the US, yam is also creatively woven into Erogbogbo's mission to "really put Nigerian cuisine on the map in LA", marrying his business school acumen and culinary passions at his private dining studio ILÉ (Yorùbá for "home"). His innovations include yam dumplings served with a deconstructed ẹ̀fọ́ riro; aromatic braised greens with chillies and umami-filled fermented locust beans. There's also a twist on the traditional combination of pounded yam and egusi, the nutty, intensely savoury stew made from ground native gourd seeds: a yam mousse with a buttery, mustard-yellow egusi sauce.  

While these reinvented yam dishes put a fresh spin on the vegetable's role in Nigerian cuisine and culture, Yewande Komolafe, author of seminal Nigerian cookbook My Everyday Lagos told me, "traditional yam dishes are perfect just as they are". From ofe nsala (white soup), an Eastern Nigerian delicacy thickened with yam, brimming with fresh seafood and sprinkled with ribbons of fresh bitter uziza leaves, to ojojo, crispy and moreish Yorùbá water yam fritters, to ukodo, an Urhobo one-pot-wonder of yam chunks, green plantain and meat simmering in a full-bodied, sinus-clearing broth, time-honoured yam recipes are cherished across Nigeria and beyond.

But for now, even with avant-garde recipes and modernised cultural practices, yam remains an unbroken thread connecting generations of Nigerians with their ancestors. 

Crushed Yam Fritters

By Yewande Komolafe

Serves 8-10

Cooked yams or a leftover pot of àsáró (yam porridge) can be repurposed as yam fritters to serve as a 'small chop' (Nigerian Pidgin for a snack or appetiser). This recipe is as easy as it gets, made both rich and refreshing by the addition of ata dín dín (bell pepper sauce) and fresh spring onions. The garri (cassava flour)-dusted crust is my recommendation, but you can also use breadcrumbs or panko for this step. Serve warm or at room temperature with extra ata dín dín for dipping.

For the ata dín dín (makes 2 cups)

Method

Step 1

Combine the bell peppers, onion, garlic, ginger and Scotch bonnet pepper in a food processor or blender and pulse to a coarse purée. 

Step 2

Pour the puree into a shallow medium saucepan and bring to a simmer over medium heat.

Step 3

Cover and let simmer until the peppers and onions have softened, and released their liquid, 18 to 20 minutes.

Step 4

Pour in the oil and cook further, stirring frequently, until the sauce thickens and looks separated, about 15 minutes. Season with salt to taste.

Method

Step 1

Prepare two baking sheets by lining one with a sheet of parchment paper and placing a cooling rack inside the other.

Step 2

Cut the yam into thick 1½-in slices. Remove the brown skin on the slices by peeling off with a paring knife or a vegetable peeler. Put the peeled pieces into a bowl of water to keep them from turning brown.

Step 3

Rinse off the yam pieces and place in a medium saucepan. Cover with water and bring to a boil over medium-high heat. Season with a dash of salt and reduce heat to a simmer.

Step 4

Allow the yam to cook until softened, about 10 minutes. Drain off any remaining liquid and move the yam to a bowl. Mash the yam into a chunky paste with a fork or potato masher and allow to cool completely.

Step 5

Add the ata dín dín, green onions and ginger to the yam paste, stir to incorporate. Season the mix with 1 tsp salt.

Step 6

Gently whisk 1 egg and fold it into the yam mixture. Scoop the mixture into tablespoon-size balls using an ice cream scoop or a tablespoon measure and place on the prepared baking sheet. Refrigerate until the scoops are chilled through, at least 1 hour. At this point the scooped balls can also be frozen by placing the baking sheet in the freezer. Once frozen, store the scooped mix in an airtight container or bag for up to 2 weeks.

Step 7

Prepare a dredging station using 3 medium-sized containers for the remaining 2 eggs, the cornstarch, and garri or panko. Season each bowl lightly with salt and lightly beat the eggs. Heat the oil in a medium saucepan to 162C or until a drop of water sizzles when sprinkled in. Dip the yam balls in the cornstarch first, then the egg mixture, then coat with the garri, panko or breadcrumbs. Fry the dipped yam balls until golden brown and warm all the way through, 4 to 6 minutes. Turn frequently to ensure an even colour all round. Set the fritters on the rack to drain.

Step 8

Serve warm with ata dín dín for dipping.

Reprinted with permission from My Everyday Lagos by Yewande Komolafe copyright © 2023. Photographs by Kelly Marshall. Published by Clarkson Potter, a division of Penguin Random House, LLC.

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