It is a song of fire and spice, and you'll take your friends with you the next time.
Get on Adeniran Ogunsanya from that Shitta bridge. You’ll see a Suya guy on the right just a few hundred metres from the bridge, with a big table, and plenty skewered beef Suya.
Don’t stop. Keep moving.
Don’t stop till you get to Tastee Fried Chicken, but that’s not why you’re here. You’re here for the Suya that is directly opposite.
The guys you meet there will ask about work if you go on a weekday, and about your family if its a weekend, just as they give you a piece of meat to get the juices flowing and your wallet dancing.
Place your order (this is the part where it gets interesting), and watch.
They get a sheet of beef, cut off your portion with those knives slicing through like a hot knife through butter. Then they add some shaki, that meat that looks like your towel, then liver, and even some gizzard if you like.
Your usual Suya guy will chop your meat up on your paper at this point, but who said anything about these guys being usual? They transfer your Suya into a bowl of spiced oil sitting impatiently on fire,
After a few seconds of stirring, they take out your little pieces of happiness and throw it into the fire for a few seconds. All the excess oil burns away like all your troubles as you stare into the flames. Then Suya leaves the fire and meets paper. Ask for veggies and fruits if you want.
Just before they wrap it up, quickly take a piece and taste it. Feel the just-the-right-amount-of-cooked meat crush between your teeth, feel the juices splatter in your mouth.
It is in these moments you will understand why Chinese restaurants do all the cooking in front of their customers. There is something about all your senses experiencing the food and having it climax in your mouth that makes the whole experience amazing.
This is the Suya way.
If you find yourself in Surulere one evening, and you’re tired from the day’s work, sad, heartbroken, or just want to feel lifted, this Suya is for you.