Iron Chef Akono

Last week I got a call from Madame Mekongo, director of the Center de Promotion de Femme et Famille (CPFF, or in English: Center for the Promotion of Women and Family).  She invited me to attend some sort of event at the center…whatever it was, I didn’t understand the word in French, but I accepted the invitation nonetheless.

CPFF offers classes to young women (most in their late teens) who have dropped out of school.  The two main subjects offered are cooking and couture (I like to think that this is not because “promoting women” means teaching them how to cook and sew, but rather because these are two marketable skills that are easily passed down from one woman to another), but occasionally there are “causerie educatif" sessions, in which other important issues are addressed such as domestic violence, HIV/AIDS, how to avoid early pregnancy.

When I arrived at CPFF on Tuesday afternoon, I entered the main conference hall and seated myself among the audience.  It was then that I realized, the event that I was invited to attend was actually the judging of final presentations for the students of the center.

A short minute nestling down in my comfy plastic seat, Madame Mekongo interrupted the students presentation to shout, “Maria!  Why are you hiding over there?  Come take your seat up here!"

Up here?  Up where?  Oh no... She gestured to the empty seat at the edge of the judges’ table.

My first task was to help judge makeovers.  Yep, that’s right.  As someone whose idea of an “up do” is a simple ponytail and who only wears mascara (at most) as a drunken afterthought before going out for the night, I tried to stay as silent as possible, and made a bunch of “mhmm” and “uh huh” noises whenever seemed appropriate.

Cameroonians tend to love a bit of flair in their hairstyles.  To be honest, I wasn’t a fan of the gazillion pearl bobby pins keeping the model’s weave in place.  I also thought she looked incredibly uncomfortable in those high heals.  However, I admire the passion these students had for this line of work; they spent several hours on these makeovers – something I clearly would have no patience for – and their clients/models (really they were just female family members willing to participate) seemed pleased and confident with their new looks. 

“Where would your client go in this outfit?”

“She could wear this look to a gala or another similar event.”

Right.  Because there are so many galas going on in Akono.

I tried to give the students high scores, but the other judges disagreed with me. 

“The color of her eye shadow didn’t match her outfit.  Minus two.” 

Hmm.  Looked pretty good to me, but you know, whatever.

After two makeovers, to my surprise, the subject changed: food!

While I am always thrilled to receive a free meal, I am no more qualified to be a judge in this subject matter than I was for makeovers.  Recently I’ve been known to have a diet consisting primarily of popcorn, oatmeal, and care package candy.  The most complex recipe that I’ve made since being in Cameroon was pancakes, or maybe chocolate cake.  On top of that, until very recently I was vegetarian, not for any sort of moral reasons but rather because generally I think meat is icky.  And fish?  Ew.  On top of that, I still occasionally refuse to eat my veggies.  (Spare me the lecture.  I'm stuck in my ways.  Can't teach an old Maria new tricks.  Especially if those tricks mean popcorn cant be my dinner.)

Anyways, here I was, sitting on the panel of judges for what I like to call “Iron Chef Akono”, presented with 5 three-course meals over the span of two days.  Though I’ll admit to swallowing my mushrooms whole and pushing the olives back on to the serving tray, every single course was absolutely scrumptious.

As with the makeovers, the other judges were far harsher than I was, leading many students to being on the verge of tears.  With inquisitions about why the Mexican salad was called “Mexican” and why the student referred to an apple as a “pomme de France” (that’s what apples are called here) when it really was grown in Cameroon, along with accusations of wasting the judges' time, not serving piment (hot pepper), and not knowing the proper culinary terminology – well, let’s just say there was a whole lot of eye-rolling amongst the student chefs.  

“The kitchen was dirty.  Minus two.” 

The kitchen was an outside fire.  Minus two for Mother Nature!  And also during college I kept a spoon in my backpack and used it everyday for a year without washing it, unless you count the "lick-it-clean" method, so…

“She served red wine instead of white.  Red wine is for red meat.  We’re eating chicken.”  

Hey man, free alcohol!  And it’s not even in a box!  Shut up and drink! 

“She’s not wearing a bow-tie and she didn’t iron her shirt.” 
I probably shouldn’t mention that I haven’t washed this skirt in two months... 

The outdoor kitchen.

I tried to sound like a foodie wherever I could, but let’s be honest, the best I could do was to sit back, sip my wine, smile, and occasionally state my honest opinion: “well, she cooked way better than I ever could, so 10 points from me!”  Every meal, which comprised of a salad, entree, and dessert, far exceeded my expectations for any food to come out of this village, let alone Cameroon.

Under-qualifications aside, I was honored to be selected as a judge.  In the course of two days, I probably ate more protein and vegetables than all my meals in Cameroon combined, and this is as close to being on Iron Chef that I will ever come.  I also appreciated the free wine, even if it wasn’t properly paired. 

Carrot and raisin salad

Maringo chicken with rice

 
Day Two’s Menu: (Day One I was ill-equipped as a judge and didn’t have my notebook!) 

Chef #1

·      Niçoise Salad

·      Maringo chicken with rice

·      Crepes

Chef #2

·      Mexican salad

·      Smoked chicken with mushroom sauce over rice

·      Yogurt and oranges

Chef #3

·      Carrot and raisin salad

·      Steak with peas and mushrooms, with fries

·      Fruit salad