This restaurant is a little sparse but I would call it much better than what is in the villages.
Here the cooks wear aprons, uniforms and the ultimate "chef's hat". So you know it is clean and good.
The kitchen is a little small/non existent so the main dishes are prepared in the back courtyard.
Here they are preparing the basic food of all Africa - nshima. It is spelled and sounds slightly different in each country. It is made from cornmeal and is the national food. Sometimes they use cassava in the north of Zambia or millet along the Zambezi River to mix in because that is what is available along with corn. Zambians commonly say they have not eaten unless they have had nshima. There is little nutritional value except for what is eaten with it.
It is mixed up sort of like instant mashed potatoes. It is prepared as a dough or thick porridge. Sometimes the left over from the day is eaten the next morning for breakfast before a new pot is started.
Notice the cooking stoves. This is what every house uses in the villages.
They must not last too long as they are sold on the streets everywhere. Several sizes are used depending on what size cans are available.
Here are a couple of bags of charcoal. The amount of charcoal that is burned is amazing. I am not sure what forests contribute to this industry. We drove for a mile on the north side of town that was lined with charcoal sellers. The ground in that area was black from years of commerce.
This is a small retailer in a village.
Here our chef is preparing boiled chicken and chips or huge french fries.
I asked about this and was told it was Hungarian sausage. It looked like hot dogs to me.
He said this "Village Chicken" was a favorite. It is cooked in a little bit of water and tomatoes. He hadn't plopped the tomatoes in yet.
Next came the fish dish, Bream or as he said "Bileem". I must tell you it is difficult to understand many people. They tend to transpose the "r" and "l" letters in their pronunciation. Some of it is hilarious but we have to wait until in the car to talk about it. Some of the missionaries from Africa do the same thing. The other thing is spelling, they spell like they pronounce. I must take some photos of signs.
On Sunday, the teacher asked Kristi to say the closing prayer. He wrote her name on the blackboard after she pronounced it for him several times. She tried to just let it go but he insisted on writing it down. Well he ended up writing Sister Sickmole. I died trying to contain myself. It is quite fun being with Sister Sickmole in Zambia.
Remember, presentation is everything when it comes to fine dining.
Here are how those lovely Bileem will entice the evening crowd.
We got home before dark and Kristi made our own Shawarmas for dinner.