If the Afrobeats Don’t Get You, Perhaps the Suya Will
Notes from Dinner
Who goes out in single-digit temperatures to celebrate a friend’s birthday?
We do.
Me and my girlfriends.
A sisterhood forged in restaurants, sealed with laughter, and renewed every year by the simple act of showing up.
For over a decade now, we have celebrated one another’s birthdays the same way. Dinner. Together. No excuses. No rain checks. Well, sometimes… but they are always made up for. No sudden illnesses that mysteriously appear when the temperature drops below forty degrees. It is tradition. It is ritual. It is friendship that requires commitment.
Yes, we could have stayed home.
Wrapped in blankets.
Loyal to our heating systems.
Faithful to a bowl of soup and a good Netflix series.
But friendship, real friendship, asks more of you than comfort.
It asks you to put on boots.
It asks you to brave the cold.
It asks you to say, Yes, we are still going.
So this past weekend, we bundled ourselves into coats and courage and headed to Native. Not because the weather was kind, but because birthdays deserve a celebration.
There is something holy about grown women keeping promises to one another.
We know what is expected of us.
We know what this night means.
Not just a meal. A marker in time.
We have celebrated one another through changing jobs, changing bodies, and changing seasons of life. Each birthday is proof that we are still here. Still choosing one another. Still laughing across tables no matter what the weather is doing outside.
And honestly, if you are not the kind of person who eats and responds with a small moan or an uncontrollable shimmy, I fear you have not yet had a truly good meal.
That night, my body testified.
The food at Native burst with flavor. Spicy. Seasoned. Alive.
It tasted like a chef practicing a little bit of sorcery, rare ingredients forged together into something bold and original. It soared.
The DJ had Afrobeats on heavy rotation, with dashes of R&B and hip-hop woven into the night like a soundtrack to our laughter. The lights were low. The decor begged for social media photos. And just when you thought you had settled into your seat, nodding your head to the beat bouncing off the walls, dancers appeared on a platform and reminded the room that you were here for more than dinner. You were here to be entertained.
This is not the place for quiet debates or long discussions about your favorite color.
The music is too loud for long sentences. And that is exactly the point.
Some nights are not meant for deep conversation.
Some nights are meant for movement.
For savoring new dishes.
For watching your friends smile between bites.
And Native delivered.
The Bite That Made Me Believe
I ordered the suya and a goat dish bathed in a peppery, spicy sauce.
One bite and my shoulders started dancing without permission.
Spicy in the way I love.
Bold in the way winter needs.
The kind of flavor that reminds you that your mouth still works and your spirit is awake.
I could have stopped at the appetizers. Truly. They arrived so generous and so good that when my main dish came, I had to send most of it home in a doggy bag.
Our server, Chris, added to the night with humor and grace, moving through the room like he, too, was part of the performance. Later, the dancers stepped off the platform and floated between tables, carrying rhythm and joy with them. You could not help but pull out your phone and press record.
I stayed loyal to my gym regimen and sipped sparkling soda. My girlfriends ordered Prosecco and a mango cocktail, which one of them declared delicious with the authority of someone who had absolutely no regrets.
We mourned briefly over the absence of yam fries.
Dreams deferred.
But the suya healed us.
What I Will Remember
Yes, the food was good.
Yes, the music was loud.
Yes, the dancers were joyful.
But what will stay with me for years is not on the menu.
It is the sight of my friends across the table.
Still showing up.
Still choosing one another.
Still laughing in the cold.
We braved the weather not because we are dramatic, but because we are devoted. We know this tradition maintains our bond. That birthdays are not just about candles. They are about continuity.
In a world that changes constantly, our dinners remain.
If the Afrobeats didn’t get us, the suya surely did. And so did our plates of Escovitch fish, Grilled lamb chops, and New York strip steak.
But if neither had, the friendship would have been enough.
You might ask, why brave the cold that day? Why not choose another time?
And to that I say, it was never for the food alone.
It was for each other.
Because some nights are not about staying warm.
They are about staying connected.