The first time I got invited to a brunch was with a friend I’d made online, to a restaurant I’d never been to before, and brunch had to be reserved with a ₦10k flat rate. We planned to meet on a Sunday for brunch because the restaurant we were going to only held brunch on Sundays between noon and 3 p.m.
I’d never been on a brunch date, and all I knew about brunch was the dictionary meaning: an early lunch — a snack between meals sometimes, maybe? On the day of the brunch, I wore a comfortable dress and a pair of very uncomfortable shoes to match.
The brunch venue was excellent: a side shop beside a popular clothing store with good lighting and a great ambience. Although the space was rather small, it was also very well utilised. My friend had been there before; she’d told me about the bottomless mimosas and the meal options and even picked meals she knew we’d enjoy. Immediately after I arrived and settled in, I received my first glass of mimosa and knew it was the beginning of a great afternoon.
On that hot Sunday in August 2022, between glasses of mimosas, a plate of spicy pasta (I’m a Lagos babe, please), chicken wings, a salted caramel cookie and many polaroid pictures, I knew brunch was an activity I would want to keep doing. Conversations over delicious food, pictures taken with warm lighting, making friends with the women on the table across ours because one of them’s my friend’s namesake, and a shopping experience right after? All my favourite things in one outing.
When another friend told me he was leaving the country and wanted us to spend some time together before he left, the first thing that came to mind was a brunch in the exact location. Getting ready for this brunch was a bit different, though. The first brunch had given me an idea of how I’d want to dress up, and I was also going to be there from church.
In the three months since my first brunch experience, the mimosas had stopped being bottomless — we know who and what to blame for that (hint: it’s a certain West African country’s government), but the food hadn’t stopped being good. Unlike the first time in which I had a spicy pasta meal, I settled for waffles and chicken with wings a la carte. The meal was satisfying, even though the chicken was a little dry. What both brunch dates had in common, aside from food though, was friendship, conversation and shopping.
I haven’t been to a brunch date since then, not because I don’t want to go, but because it takes a lot of intentionality to plan — and attend one. Like everything else in Lagos, brunch dates — any kind of dates really — need to be planned way ahead of time — and with lots of God abeg and Inshallah. The places with glowing reviews are far away from me — even the one place I have tested and trusted is more than an hour away from me, and that’s on a good day with no traffic.
The emergence of restaurant culture in Nigeria could have helped develop a brunch culture. The FOMO of wanting to go to a restaurant in the middle of the afternoon for a not-so-light, not-so-heavy meal, but living in Nigeria Lagos comes with complexities and nuance. Why’s my lunch a light meal when I know I’ll soon be hungry again? Why doesn’t it seem like I’m getting value for my money? Is this what I left my house, office, or church for? Croissants and coffee under the hot Lagos afternoon sun?
Nigeria may have a well-established restaurant culture, but there’s simply no brunch culture. The Nigerians familiar with the idea of a brunch aren’t enough to keep a primary brunch spot in business, and brunch meals aren’t filling for the average Nigerian. A french toast in the early hours of the afternoon or some banana bread won’t cut it for the young working professionals who have to leave work for a bit to get something to eat.
So does Nigeria have a brunch culture? Not yet, but with time, we will.
