She couldn't find it, so she made it

Kilishi is Hausa. In Nigeria you buy it in a paper twist from a man who has been making it the same way for thirty years, and it tastes of pepper, groundnut and smoke all at once.

Alhaja Khadijah grew up on it in Isale-Oja, Agege — not in the north, but among the Hausa families she lived alongside in Lagos, where kilishi was an everyday thing rather than a delicacy.

When she came to the United States she went looking for it. What she found was either shipped in and stale, or American jerky wearing a Nigerian name — thick, sweet, and nothing like the thing she remembered.

So she started making it herself. From memory, which is harder than it sounds: no written recipe, no measurements, just the taste she was trying to get back to. Batch after batch, adjusting, until one day it was right.

That recipe is what's in the bag. It's still made by hand in New York, in small batches, on our own equipment — no co-packer, no production line. It's also why no two packs look quite the same.

If you grew up on kilishi, we think you'll recognize it. If you didn't, this is what it's supposed to taste like.