A taste of Senegal

I grew up in Senegal, in a house where the kitchen was the loudest room and everyone was fed twice before they got to the door. My mother's jollof, my aunties' yassa, the dibi stands after football. That's my DNA.

Fifteen years ago I moved to the UK. I cooked in kitchens, saved my recipes, and dreamed of a place that felt like home. Not a restaurant. A table.

Now, tucked inside The Hewlett Arms, Jollofness is that table. Every plate that leaves the pass carries a piece of Dakar and a Cheltenham welcome. That's teranga. That's the whole point.