How MyCraveMeal Began

Five years ago, I was deep in a diet routine. Meal preps, macros, the whole thing. I was disciplined — maybe too disciplined. But every week, like clockwork, Sunday would roll around and I'd find myself standing in front of the stove, craving the food I grew up with. The smell of palm oil sizzling. The sound of puff puff dropping into hot oil. The warmth of a bowl of egusi soup, made just the way Mama taught me.

That first cheat day — a plate of jollof rice with plantain, some suya on the side — was a revelation. Not because it broke my diet, but because it reminded me what food is supposed to feel like. Comforting. Generous. Made with love.

So I started cooking for friends. Then friends of friends. Before I knew it, Sunday afternoons turned into a full kitchen operation — pots bubbling, orders stacking up, and a growing community of Nigerians (and non-Nigerians!) in Queens who just wanted a taste of home.