Auntie Muni

Auntie Muni only cooks on the weekend. She is so famous that the intersection next to her stand is known throughout the metropolis of Accra as “Auntie Muni Junction.” When hailing a cab home, I tell the driver to go to North Labone, next to this landmark. They perk up, and spend the ride urging me to visit Auntie. Oh, don’t worry, sir. I go there every weekend.

Auntie Muni at her stand

Auntie Muni makes waakye (pronounced watch-aay). Nobody makes this traditional Ghanaian dish like she does. At her stand, Auntie and her sisters bend over steaming pots of spicy rice, black-eyed beans, and hard-boiled eggs bathed in pepper sauce. Plantains are fried in a large metal skillet over a charcoal fire a few feet away, while the sun keeps tubs of spaghetti, fried chicken legs, and spicy shiito sauce warm on the wooden counter.

Customers wait in long lines to take away the deliciousness in a plastic bag, or to eat out of large metal mixing bowls. Groups of friends come together to share a bowlful, usually eating with their hands—I feel sheepish asking for forks. Next to Auntie Muni’s stand are rows of picnic tables full of ravenous Ghanaians. Once we find a seat and put down our bowl, we mash and mix the ingredients together, a technique which yields a delectable variety of flavors in each bite.

Believe it or not, Auntie Muni’s waakye contains all ingredients that I listed above. The meal is incredibly hearty, and even the vegetarian version is chock full of protein. A three-person meal is a total of 9 cedis, or about $6. After we stuff ourselves full, we exchange a few pesuas for a take-away box and have lunch the next day!

Auntie Muni is well known in Accra for having the best waakye, and for having the biggest crowd other than church. Because of this, people gather there to sell sunglasses, MTN phone cards, fruit, and various other goods depending on the day. Coolers full of sachet water, Fantas, Cokes, Sprites, and bottled water are available for customers to purchase a drink to quell the burning of their tongues, since the spice in Auntie Muni’s shiito is not for the faint of heart.