Agbeli Kaklo

This recipe would be incomplete without the obligatory accompanying story which is brought up, each and every time this cassava-based snack is made. The making of Agbeli Kaklo as this snack is called in Ewe, is a somewhat time-consuming process so leave yourself enough time. The cassava is grated, then the starch and moisture squeezed out. After this, it is sifted, seasoned with salt and onions, made into small balls, and then fried. Sounds simple in theory and it pretty much is until you get to the deep frying bit and this is where the story kicks in. When I was about 13, my mum who usually makes these snacks had grated and squeezed out the excess water from the cassava in preparation for this crunchy on the outside and soft and chewy on the inside snack which happens to pair very well with matured coconut meat.

The next step is to sift the dough through a special kind of sieve called an agbadze (which is like a winnower but with holes for the sifted cassava to fall through) as seen in the photo below. At the time, my mum had to run errands and had planned on frying the balls of grated cassava when she got back.

My dad, eager to get his favourite snacks of all time going said we, my siblings and cousin, should get a head start. So we got into the kitchen ready to get going and formed highly compressed balls. Time for a test run which apart from a ball splitting open didn't seem too serious. We went ahead and reported to him that the fried ball had split apart and that there was oil splashing everywhere. Him not knowing what the problem was, asked us to squeeze harder, and make the balls even more compact.

So we trudged back in there and squeezed. And then the horror show started. The balls started exploding like tiny bombs with the hot oil splashing all over the terrazzo kitchen floor. On this day the Agbeli Kaklo apocalypse was born. We run. Helter-skelter yelling for our father to save us from the cassava explosions. Chaos and anarchy in the kitchen and on the kitchen floor. My dad had the unrewarding task of turning off the heat and avoiding any further mishaps. My mum would come home later and not say a word and didn't say a word because she could already tell what we had done wrong. As much as it's now a running joke in my family, it was not funny at the time and in reality quite dangerous.

When forming the balls you have got to light-handed. Using all the strength in your body to squeeze down on them will not end well. On the other hand, not squeezing them firmly enough will cause the oil to seep into them and turn them soggy. It takes a bit of practice but after a couple of tries, you get the hang of it.