Festac Grill
Festac Grill
Take-out: Yes
Accepts Credit Cards: Yes
Good for Kids: Yes
Good for Groups: Yes
Has TV: Yes
Waiter Service: Yes
Price range.
$$ Price range $11-30
1 review
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How I wish I had pictures! It would be so much more effective to illustrate the incredibly idiosyncratic wall hangings at this Nigerian restaurant in Brooklyn's Outer Rim. Sure, I can tell you about the two foot poster of a topless African woman with a newborn suckling on her left teat above the words "Mother's Greatest Gift," but a visual representation would be much more vivid.
There are just enough pieces of visual flair to distinguish Festac, to distract the eye from the standard-issue pleather and plastic chairs and square hard-tile floors. Besides pro-nursing propaganda, the walls are decorated with prints of famous African-Americans – including Martin Luther King and Malcolm X – and Nigerian vistas. At the base of an unused fireplace are two decorative urns, each nearly five feet high and adorned with a series of gold leaves, pastel flowers and decorated shells that impress students of Rococo architecture. And behind the counter sits a picture of the Nigerian president, Goodluck Jonathan. Every other side light bulb has been replaced by a black or neon orange light, illuminating the room and the pieces to a brightness something just above candlelit.
Festac's menu is authentic to the point of being useless for someone sampling Nigerian food for the first time. Suya, jollof rice, egusi, dodo… it didn't help much in clarifying what to order.
"We're going to need some help," I said, leaning over the take-away to counter the owner/manager/sole waitress on this Saturday evening. Thankfully, we were one of five customers on this particular evening, so were able to spend a few minutes debating how to introduce ourselves to the food of Africa's most populous nation. I settled on the fish pepper soup, my roommate for a fish over jollof rice.
After 10 hypnotic minutes of pondering the miracles of lactation, an almost comically-literal version of my requested dish appeared. In the bottom of a steaming ribbed ceramic bowl sat an entire fish, covered in a brown pepper sauce. Thanks to the Internet, I knew the brown flecks to be not Sichuan pepper or peppercorns but grains of paradise, a Western African spice. Since eating the fish required de-boning and finding small chunks of meat, each bite had a perfect amount of the slightly acidic sauce. At one point, I dipped a spoon in and tried to take a bite — a mistake, as the true spice emerged during an entire mouthful. Little morsels , along with occasional sips of Heineken, ensured a pleasant experience (the more traditional choice, Guinness, seemed too heavy for early on Saturday evening).
When my fish was just a pile of bones and brown liquid, the restaurant's proprietor returned to our table. I complimented her on the cooking, and explained that this was my first time sampling the cuisine.
"You can really handle spice!" she exclaimed, her tone a couple of notches more animated than you would expect when discussing tilapia.
I expressed my disappointment that I couldn't sample suya, the Nigerian take on meat kebabs, in this case covered with crushed peanuts. The owner told me to come back Friday, when the restaurant hosts a special "Suya Night." She said sometimes they even had a DJ come spin Nigerian music and there's a bit of dancing.
"And this Friday, we have something very special," she said. Then she grinned. "It's so special, it's a surprise. I will not tell you what it is. You are going to need to come back with your friends. Tell them there will be a surprise."
And no, she did not reveal what is going on in five days. And I do have a strange urge to return to Cypress Hills after dark to find out what exactly this woman and her restaurant's menu of fish in bowls might have waiting.