I arrived Lagos like an Israelite carrying the half baked dough into a determined exodus. I had absolutely no idea what to expect, particularly how I will react to the weather, coming from extreme conditions like we witnessed this year in the Northeast US.
Frankly, to me, the quality of moin-moin lies beyond its taste. I grade my moin-moin by what it contains. Now I blame my mother wholesomely for this! When I cut through with my fork the first requirement is that I must encounter a slice of boiled egg.
As an Efik man, I thought nothing can draw me away from the love of Edikang Ikong soup and Ekpang Nkukwo, or the perfection in Fufu and Afang soup. But, without the lessening of the role these Efik dishes play in my culinary repertoire, I have found me a place for this rugged meal without any recourse to my proclivity for classy dishes. I totally fell for the temptation of street eating when I came in contact with this rarely inviting meal.