So many times, I hear the usual sort consistently whine about how there is no “authentic” food in Oklahoma City. If you mean overpriced maladies in upscale districts, then no, you’re probably not going to find it. And, to be fair, it’s seemingly rare even in plenty of mom-and-pop joints around town, at least in the truest sense of the word.
Over the past few years, however, I’ve learned that if you want not only authentic food but wholly authentic friendships as well, you need to shake the hand of a man you normally wouldn’t. Whether they’re an immigrant from Africa, Iraq or, hell, even Mexico, the foreign friendships you make will last a lifetime and, at the very least, an extremely “authentic” lunchtime. No walls, only bridges.
Let me introduce my friend Alassane. He’s from Burkina Faso, located in Western Africa. He came to this country to be someone in the medical field, and though it was plenty of long days and longer nights, he’s almost there, putting in the hours at a local hospital’s ICU ward while taking care of a loving wife and a couple of precocious children. And, additionally, I feel I’ve almost got him talked into moving back to Africa where together we’ll open up Burkina Faso’s first taqueria, but that’s another story.
But, even more than all that, Alassane is a world-class talent in—and especially out of—the kitchen, focusing on Burkinabé cuisine, specializing in maize, yams, okra and so on, as well as plenty of unnerving proteins. The first time I had one of his dishes, it was an African dish called shitoumou. Ostensibly a stew-like meal made from the crushed bodies of these local—Burkina Faso local, that is—caterpillars that are seasoned with a special spice that Alassane always seems to have on him. Ask him for some if you see him.