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Serving Presidents mode and Royals: A Memoir of an African Chef NEUFEAN：9789988345198 UPC：9789988345198 ISBN：9789988345198 MPN：N/A Format：Paperback mode, 280 pages I had grown to become my Grandmothers confidant during her latter years in the early 80s. She opened me up to more culinary skills, shared her deepest sentiments and would offer some advice as a compass to navigate the world. Though an average income earner, she had quite a sophisticated taste for the things in life and the few of my Aunties in London at that time showered her with some perfumes and other items from the Queens city. During one of our private conversations, she walked to one of the bags containing the Britain-imported items and brought out a bottle of Lavender soap and Perfume. She gave instructions concerning how she should be bathed with those items on the day of her passing. "Make sure I am baked with these on the day of my demise"."Why?" I asked with concern. "When the time comes..
I immediately sunk in my spirit but nodded in agreement with an awkward grin on my face. I struggled to understand the bizarre instruction. It was the first time she had given a stern directive without her usual stony face. The year was 1985. A sudden urge to visit my ailing Grandma swept through my mind. There was often not much left to do after school, especially during examination week. Still wandering on the schools compound, it dawned on me again to see Granny. It was almost like there was a higher power calling out loud to me to see her. Heeding the voice, I carefully scrutinized all zippers and pockets on my backpack and shorts with hopes of finding some change to get on board a tro-tro from Burma Camp to South Labadi but who was I kidding? Looking back, its safe to say that it was merely a desperate act of faith. The walk to South Labadi Estates was a long one. The distraction on the road was good company. The petty quarrels among tro-tro drivers continuously honking loudly amidst hurling out vulgar words in a blend of Twi and Ga (local Ghanaian dialects) at the traffic lights and the competition between the athletic street hawkers running in-between traffic lanes under the scorching sun to get their Insu (sachet water) to the bus passengers sticking their arms out the bus window to snatch the delivery. My body, in an attempt to cool itself from the heat wave, created beads of sweat which freely run down my temples to the collar of my shirt. Then came that gut feeling again...something felt off.
Loud wails and screams from my grandparents house attracted neighbours and passersby. From five blocks away, I could hear the distinguishing voice of Aunty Ruby Abadji calling out to me.
"Joojo, what are you doing here?
It was an obvious attempt to hinder me from going any further.
"Im here to see Grandma Maku. Is she home?" I quizzed.
It was the first time I had seen Aunt Ruby speechless. We stood in stiffening silence for a split second before the neighbours urged her to give me access to my grandparents house. Her face dropped as the feigned smile on her face faded away. Then it hit me, Maku had gone to be with the Lord.
Secondary School marked a whole new chapter in my life. As with anything, though, you learn to adapt. It gave me a feigned sense of maturity and a taste of freedom which cajoled me into becoming overly acquainted with ill-mannered students.
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In this captivating page-turner, Chef Francis reflects on an extraordinary journey of hope, resilience and the prospects that attend a mans gift. He revisits his modest childhood in Accra, an upbringing steered by a family of magnificent matriarchs, and the path to his current status among the first rank of African culinary experts.
In taking the road less traveled in a country where the profession does not enjoy as much prominence and prestige, Chef Francis redefines the craft, exposing new perspectives and possibilities for the next generation, highlighting the value of a life led by service, faith, humility and ambition.
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