Giving akaras the respect they deserve

“You soak, you peel, you wash, you blend and you fry.” That is how you make akara, a fried snack made from black eyed peas, onions and spices. 

Rukiatu insists it’s as easy as that. Down the street from where I live in Accra, she and her mother Aisha sell koko (millet porridge), bofrot (doughnut balls) and akaras, or koose as we call it in Ghana. I often stop by Rukiatu and Aisha’s stand on my way to work. I usually buy four pieces of akara and one paper cup of koko for breakfast. 

I like to sit on the bench next to the stall and talk to Rukiatu while she operates the stand. I study her precise technique as she scoops the akara batter and shapes it into an oval with two spoons and drops it into a big pot of hot oil. She fits over 20 pieces in the pot, and waits for a minute or two before flipping them over. One by one, the akaras get warmer in colour, from beige to golden brown. 

I see all types of people stop by the stall: business women in land cruisers, Uber drivers, carpenters from the wood workshop close by and kids on their way to school. Some take their akara inside a white fluffy bread. Others order ‘koose brodo’, where the whole bread is dipped in the batter and fried. The result is a perfect balance of a crunchy, oily and flavourful crust with a soft bready inside. 

My first time being introduced to akaras was in Mali, visiting my family as a kid. We used to buy a full bag of them, freshly fried, and hand them out to kids and visitors at my grandmother’s house. 

I grew up in Sweden but moved to Ghana three and a half years ago to work with the Ghana Food Movement, contributing to our shared vision on how to build a more resilient local food system. With my work, I get to see the incredible creativity and innovation that is going on with our food. But it also makes me realise how much more potential there is to our local crops and foods: for nutrition, local economies, culinary scenes and tourism. It makes me frustrated that some of our foods are fixed in one box, while food trends from other parts of the world gain more and more attention and hype. I am therefore on a mission to explore the excitement, complexity, diversity and interconnections of African food culture. 

A West African staple 

To understand the depth of akaras, we need to go on a journey across continents – so let’s startfrom the very beginning. 

Akaras originated in Nigeria where they are called kosai in Hausa and akara in Yoruba. In both cultures, they play a significant role. For the Yorubas, akaras are prepared when someone elderly dies and also as a symbol of victory, served to warriors when they returned home from wars. 

In Accra, most akara sellers are Hausas – including Rukiatu and Aisha. Their recipe has migrated with people from Nigeria and has been passed down for generations. This is how the snack has spread across West Africa and in Ghana the akara culture is big. 

Wisdom Abiro, my colleague and Head Chef at the Ghana Food Movement, tells me that the snack is prepared and eaten differently where he’s from in Northern Ghana, which is around 14 hours by bus from Accra. 

There, the peels of the beans are not removed before blending, making the akaras more dense. He believes that the peels are removed in the South so that people will be able to eat more before getting full, prompting them to buy more. 

But in the North, food is more about energy, and the heavier the better. According to Chef Abiro, akaras are eaten for breakfast in the North with koko just like in Accra. But there are some differences, too. In the afternoon, they’re enjoyed with a peanut spice mix called suya, and in the Upper East region they are served with a moringa leaf stew and onions in oil. I will definitely have to try that. 

How you eat your akaras also changes depending on the occasion. At funerals, for example, akaras are eaten with a bambara bean stew and it’s often the highlight of the whole event. When I ask Chef Abiro if they eat akaras in bread in the North like we do down South, he laughs. “That’s just an Accra thing,” he teases. He also explained that akaras can be fried in different local oils, like palm oil or shea butter. In Accra most sellers use imported vegetable oil due to its cheaper price. 

Akaras cross the Atlantic

When the Europeans enslaved West Africans and trafficked them across the Atlantic, people did all they could to hold onto parts of their culture and identity. The akara recipe survived the passage and is still a popular snack in Brazil, where it is called acarajé. 

Shaped into bigger round balls and fried in dende (palm oil), Brazilian acarajé are split in half and stuffed with different fillings. The snack is especially popular in the northeastern Brazilian state of Bahia, home to the country’s largest Black community. There, Yoruba culture, religion, and food is celebrated and the acarajé has a very special status. 

In the Afro-Brazilian religion Candomblé, acarajés are offered to honor the Yoruba orisha spirits and there is even an annual acarajé festival every November in Bahia. There is clearly both cultural but also economic value of the snack in this region, where there are over 4000 acarajé sellers. 

Interestingly, there are strict regulations for the sellers in Bahia to safeguard the tradition and authenticity of the acarajés. Sellers are required to wear a white blouse and pants and the batter should be made with only black eyed peas, onion and salt and must be fried in palm oil. There are even restrictions as to which toppings are allowed. 

I had my first (and only) Brazilian acarajé in São Paulo in 2023, at Taboule de Acarajé – a colourful restaurant with warm red decor, vibey music, and an all-woman staff. I was served an acarajé the size of both my hands, with fillings bursting from the middle. It was crispy on the outside, fluffy inside, and the fillings were an explosion of flavours: palm oil sauce, large shrimp with their soft peel, and a fresh tomato relish. It tasted like comfort; like something I knew well but was still tasting for the first time. 

Akara meets fine dining

Does this mean, in honour of tradition, that the West African akaras should be kept simple? Well, not if you ask Nigerian-British chefs Ayo Adeyemi and Aji Akokomi, the founders of Akara, a fine-dining restaurant centered around akaras in London. 

The restaurant website shows a close-up photo of a perfectly round akara with vibrant fillings – shrimp, pickled onion, a dot of palm oil reduction, and chives. The caption reads: “Explore our distinctive approach to akara, blending the crispy, fluffy attributes of Nigerian Akara Osu with the flavour-packed delights of Brazilian Acarajé.” I knew I needed to taste what this was all about. In June 2024, I took my mom to Akara when we were visiting London. 

When we got there, we ordered the BBQ prawn akara and the crab kuli kuli akara. Kuli kuli, made from peanuts, is popular in Ghana and Nigeria and is the main ingredient in suya spice, often used on grilled meats. Their akara were smaller than the acarajé I had in Brazil, about the size of a tennis ball, and packed with filling. It was a delicious bomb of flavours. 

I posted an Instagram reel about my visit to Akara; shots of the restaurant interior, me eating, and lots of close ups on the food. I talked about the West African origin of akara, its travel to Brazil and how fascinating Black food culture is. The post garnered a lot of interesting comments. People from Senegal, Sierra Leone, Ghana, Haiti, Cuba, Martinique, Guadeloupe, Trinidad & Tobago commented that they have some version of the snack in their country.

A lot of people in the comments were happy and proud to see the common street food in a new setting. Someone called it “Akara pro max,” referring to the newest iPhone models. Others were confused. “If I bite into akara and see any kind of ‘stuffing’, there will be carnage,” one person wrote. Another shared their trepidation: “our food is being westernised again… before we know it we will not know how to make our own traditional akara.” 

There is a clear tension between tradition and innovation, but for me, innovation in our food is positive – so long as Africans are leading the way and we are educating ourselves and our guests about the origins and cultures of our foods. That’s how it’s done at Akara, too. 

Stuck in tradition? 

It’s interesting how akaras are valued so differently in different places – and how this reflects people’s food philosophies globally. Knowing how akaras are worshipped in Brazil and elevated in London makes me feel very proud. But it is also frustrating that most Ghanaians only know one type of akara, and only eat it in one specific way. Chef Abiro and I dream of more creativity, excitement and hype into our local foods like the akaras. 

This reminds me of something that Yẹ́misí Aríbisálà addresses in Longthroat Memoirs. She writes about a story she was told as a kid, where akaras were dipped in honey, with the perfect mix of sweet and savoury, although not common and probably not accepted by most Nigerians. She goes on to explain how she gets bored of the predictability of akaras. “There is no flamboyant engineering of umami, no twist, no possibility of a daring collision of savoury and opinionated sweetness.” 

The idea of akaras as a fine dining experience would be strange in Accra. Among over 30 fine dining (read: expensive) restaurants in Accra, there are only two that specialise in Ghanaian or African flavours and ingredients.

Chef Abiro tells me that it’s important that our foods get this recognition – because for him, it often takes an outsider’s approval for Ghanaians to appreciate certain foods. When I told him about Akara in London he explained, “whatever the white man eats, Ghanaians also want to eat. So if that is what it will take, then so be it.” 

Over the years, I’ve seen western and global food trends reach Ghana and certainly gain popularity. Burger King just opened two new locations in Accra, and KFC is already at 34 branches across the country. Boba tea spots are popping up like mushrooms and a new smash burger joint is being praised online.

People are ready to spend money on these foods, and food influencers make a living through brand partnerships with these restaurants. And as Chef Abiro indicated, it seems like people are okay to cash up when the food is foreign but are not ready to pay extra for locally sourced ingredients and innovations. 

For now, akaras seem to be stuck with flavours and shapes that people are used to. I even wonder how long it took for “koose brodo” to become socially accepted and sold by most akara sellers. Big fast food chains introduce a new “finger lickin” menu on radio, TV and billboards every other week. I wish that energy and excitement could be channeled to our local foods and their diverse interpretations. 

Giving akaras the respect they deserve

The global recognition of akaras shows how African food cultures are ever evolving and travelling the world through innovation and creativity. People are getting excited about our food ways, one bite at a time. 

I see this as an opportunity. In Ghana, akaras of all types could become a way to resist foreign influence in our food systems and celebrate what we have locally. We can be creative with our food culture – we’ve seen it work elsewhere. We can culturally and economically re-value some of our staple foods and show Ghana’s culinary excellence to the world. 

Let’s fill akaras with different local ingredients: grounded pepper, tomato, avocado, wagashi cheese, plantain, oyster mushrooms and different spices. Let’s fry them in local oils like shea butter, groundnut oil and palm oil instead of imported vegetable oil. Imagine influencers promoting and reviewing a new flavour combination at an akara spot and curious people queuing up to taste the hype. 

If you ask me, these trends are not opposed to keeping our traditions – in fact, it’s the opposite. With growing attention we will see more research, education and investment in our foods. More effort will go into collecting and preserving original recipes and the stories around them. 

To do our part, Chef Abiro and I will invite Rukiatu and Aisha to set up their stand at Ghana Food Movement’s hub. People will choose the local oil they want the akara to be fried in and what fillings they want inside. Let’s see what people think about that!