Scarpetta & Groundnut Soup: The Universality of African Flavors

Scarpetta & Groundnut Soup

In August 2024, I was invited as one of 2 guest chefs to lead a dining experience in Dornach, Switzerland. It was a completely vegan menu, and for the main course, I served something deeply rooted in West African culinary traditions: roasted oyster mushrooms with a rich groundnut sauce and kuli kuli—the spiced peanut presscake made from what’s left after extracting oil.

In Ghana, this is a familiar pairing—protein-rich, hearty, and satisfying. There was no need to “reimagine” the dish for a plant-based menu. It’s already one of our many plant-forward dishes, with built-in protein from the groundnuts and a deep cultural and nutritional logic that predates any food trend.

The kuli kuli was spiced in the style of suya or chichinga—bold, smoky, and unforgettable.

As the plates went out to a table of 80 guests, I had the usual nerves.
This wasn’t a Ghanaian crowd.
This was a group of mostly European diners—many of whom had probably never tasted anything from the continent’s diverse cuisines before.

The Moment

I walked the length of the table to check in with guests. At the far end sat a woman, likely in her 80s, eating quietly.

And then I saw it.

She took her index finger, scraped the bottom of her plate, and licked the last bit of groundnut sauce off her hand.

I smiled.

I walked up to her and asked,
“Did you enjoy the dish?”

Without missing a beat, she said,
“I’m STILL enjoying the dish. If you had served bread, I would’ve used it to sop up the rest.”

Scarpetta in Switzerland. Groundnut sauce in Ghana. Same joy.

In Italy, they call it scarpetta—using bread to mop up the final bits of sauce.

It’s one of those gestures that transcends etiquette. It’s instinctual. Joyful.

And here was this woman—eating a dish made with ingredients and techniques from West Africa—scraping the plate clean with her finger.

It was a small act, but for me, it was everything.

It meant the dish resonated.
That the flavors held.
That the pressure I had been holding—for people to like this first experience of African cuisines—was finally released.

The Universality of Flavor

There’s something deeply affirming about seeing someone break formality to enjoy your food.

Because it means they’ve stopped performing.
They’re in it. Present. Feeling.

And when it comes to African cuisines—often marginalized, mischaracterized, or left out of global food conversations entirely—that kind of connection is powerful.

It reminded me that deliciousness is universal.

Groundnut sauce may have started in my grandmother’s kitchen.
But that night in Switzerland, it became a bridge—between continents, cultures, and generations.

Why I Keep Cooking

That moment reminded me why I do this work.

Not just to serve food, but to serve story, culture, and memory.
To remind people—whether they grew up with these flavors or are tasting them for the first time—that African cuisines are not exotic. They are essential.
They are bold, complex, layered, nourishing.
They are worthy of joy, reverence, and recognition.

And they don’t need to be altered or softened to be accepted.
They simply need to be experienced.

Whether you call it scarpetta or something else…
When someone wipes the plate clean, it means you’ve done your job.
It means they felt something.

And that is enough.

📍 What dish from your culture always gets that kind of reaction? What flavor brings people to their senses?
Let me know—I’d love to hear your version of scarpetta.

➡ For more on food systems change and New African Cuisine, explore.

Steinbeisser 2024 Photo by Maya Matsuura