Made to be shared
Equal parts sleepy beach town, cosmopolitan metropolis, and creative enclave, Senegal’s coastal food capital of Dakar is as dynamic as it is delicious. Let born-and-bred chef Pierre Thiam be your guide
there is a term that describes the culture of hospitality you will find in Dakar: teranga. This sense of warmth and welcoming is engrained into the city. It is why you can feast on heaping platters of thieboudienne, a West African staple of ruby-red tomato rice topped with hunks of fresh-caught fish, and still be offered more. You can find deeply satisfying meals in even the most unassuming places, such as an art gallery by the airport. You can meet restaurant owners so friendly and inviting that they join your table to pour tastes from their private reserves of grog, a pungent riff on Portuguese moonshine. You can sip crisp beers on rocky beaches while devouring platters of steamed clams and salted fish at sunset, then dance to jazz music until daybreak. Dakar’s emphasis on hospitality weathered centuries of British and French colonisation. In the years following, the city became a hub for Vietnamese and Lebanese communities who had been displaced by European rule, giving it a distinctly multicultural edge. Dakar, my hometown, is where I learned to cherish afternoon tea ceremonies and spent countless nights at restaurants that turned into dance parties, grabbing hot lamb skewers from street vendors on the way home. I now run my own restaurant in New York, capturing the spirit of Senegalese cooking and named – what else? – Teranga. I try to return every April, before the torrential downpours. There is no better time to come home.
The tea ceremony known as attaya; whole fish on the grill; at Le Thiof restaurant, order the thiof braisé — smoky grilled grouper with plantains and rice (pictured below) — or the millet risotto capped with smoked fish; a stall located in the centre of Sandaga, one of the city’s most vibrant neighbourhoods, Bante Yi is always a hub of activity with tourists, clubbers, and people working late. They are all filing into the same line for the stall’s speciality: dibi, or grilled meats such as offal and lamb rubbed in a fiery peanutty spice mixture called suya; Dakar is called Surfer’s Paradise for a reason.
Family Meal
Nothing captures the warmth of Dakar like sharing a platter of thieboudienne, tomato-ey rice flecked with carrots, cassava, and pieces of fish. It is frequently served in homes, as pictured here, but it is also widely accessible at restaurants and hotels.
Ride the Wave
I may not be a big surfer, but Dakar’s surfing culture is undeniable. And with the hype comes popular beachside shops like Surfer Paradise and hangouts like Secret Spot. While lots of people once considered surfing a sport for white people, I’m excited about how it’s becoming more and more democratised.
Shellfish by the Beach
Along the rock-lined shore of Dakar’s western coast sits a collection of shacks and food stalls known as La Pointe, slinging big portions of seafood just plucked from the water. Order from multiple stands: steamed clams, buttery uni, grilled grouper bundled in newspapers, plus big spoonfuls of cassava and couscous.
Head to the communal tables, or take your food to the beach’s large rocks for an even better view.
Keep it Fresh
When the food on a whirlwind tour of restaurants starts to feel a little too rich, you will want to order a cup of fresh and floral hibiscus juice (pictured) or tart baobab juice. While you can find both throughout the city, I am keen on La Calebasse’s not-toosweet approach to the baobab.
Wine and Dine
When I come back to Dakar, La Cave is where I relax. It is a French wine bar with an extensive array of bottles plus charcuterie, cured fish and sardines. Its deep European wine reserves are a nod to Dakar’s colonial past, but its diverse clientele and unpretentious, laid-back vibes plant it firmly in the present.