CHoColaTE mEringUE moUssE CaKE

This can be made a few hours in advance or even the night before. It gets more dense with time but leftovers can still be enjoyed a couple of days later.

TIME TAKEN: 1 HOUR SERVES 10-12

150g dark chocolate (about 70% cocoa solids), broken into pieces 150g butter pinch of flaked sea salt

4 eggs, separated

150g caster sugar

2 tsp vanilla bean paste

TO SERVE

1 tbsp cocoa powder, to dust fresh seasonal berries crème fraîche or whipped cream

★ Preheat the oven to 160C/140C fan/gas 3. Grease and line a 20cm springform or loose-bottom cake tin.

★ Melt the chocolate, butter and salt together in a bowl set over a pan of gently simmering water, or gently melt in the microwave in 10-second bursts. Set aside to cool slightly.

★ Whisk the egg yolks with 100g of the sugar and the vanilla paste until thick, pale and fluffy.

★ In a separate bowl, whisk the egg whites to stiff peaks then add the remaining sugar, a tablespoon at a time, whisking thoroughly between each addition until you have a thick and glossy mixture

that holds itself in stiff peaks.

★ Pour the chocolate and butter mixture into the whisked egg yolks and gently mix together with a spatula.

★ Gradually fold in the egg whites using a metal spoon, taking care not to knock out all the air. Once all of the egg white has completely mixed in, spoon the mixture into your prepared cake tin.

★ Bake for 35 minutes until lightly crisp on top but slightly wobbly when you give the pan a little tap. Leave the cake to cool completely in the tin before carefully removing and transferring to a plate.

★ Dust with the cocoa powder and serve cut into slices with fresh berries and some crème fraîche or whipped cream (generously flavoured with orange liqueur is my personal favourite).

FLEXIBLE

Upgrade Add 1 tablespoon brandy, rum, coconut or orange liqueur to the melted chocolate and butter. Flavour swap Fold through 100g finely chopped roasted hazelnuts before transferring to the tin.

Why did I go so long without the fiery delights of Nigerian cooking, wonders Tom

Nearly three decades spent in Nigerian and old friend, who London, filling my face with all this replies saying he’s happy to give fine city has to offer. And only a Tiwa ’N’ Tiwa a go. As long as we few days back did I first taste suya: go on to AsoRock in Dalston for a grilled slices of meat, lavished with bowl of red soup.

yaji, a vigorous mix of salt, spices We park by Lidl and cross the and ground peanut crackers. This road to a small, clean, utilitarian magnificent dish, native to room where Fulham FC play on Northern Nigeria but eaten the telly and the air is thick with everywhere, is quite simply one of the most thrilling things to pass my lips since, well, I’m not entirely sure.

Maybe that first hit of Sichuan pepper, in the dying days of the 80s, at Red Pepper off the Fulham Road. Or, further back, a Berkshire curry house, where chicken tikka masala shocked my virgin palate into raptures. Anyway, on this suitably steamy Peckham night, my Nigerian culinary education began.

It was an article in the excellent

Vittles newsletter that inspired me. A piece by Helen Graves, editor of

Pit magazine, where she talks of her love of suya. I text Ade, a British

The bracing chilli blast is followed by whispers of ginger and garlic

vigorous debate. ‘Sport and politics,’ Ade tells me. ‘Our two favourite subjects. That, and food.’ I take an iced Trophy beer from the bucket at the side, and we order. ‘Make his extra spicy.’

The beef arrives quickly, charred, chewy, slightly fatty and speckled with spice. There’s a bracing chilli blast, followed by whispers of ginger, cumin and garlic, and something else, something mysterious and intoxicating. The initial assault is replaced by a more languorous sort of heat, raw onion and tomato offering cool, crisp relief.

Ade prefers his suya drier, more frazzled. I just want more, but red soup is calling. So we drive north to AsoRock, where we eat chewy fried plantains. Red soup has rich depth and mild sweetness, and a subtle, fruity scotch bonnet tang. With amala on the side, made from cassava flour, grey, with the texture of putty. And a splodge of gloopy okra on top.

There’s so much more to try. This is a country whose food rivals China, India and France for depth, range and technique. I know nothing, save that I am hungry for more.

Tiwa ’N’ Tiwa, about £10 a head, 34A Peckham High Street, London SE15. AsoRock, about £15 a head, 10 Bradbury Street, N16

TRY A TASTE OF NIGERIA AT ASOROCK