Just off Riverside Drive, a little removed from the busier parts of the city, sits Dee’s Kitchen. From the outside it’s easy to miss, another modest storefront in a quiet strip of businesses. But the moment you step inside, the smell tells you exactly where you are. Rich spices hang in the air, the unmistakable aroma of Nigerian cooking drifting from the kitchen.

There are five tables inside, and the space immediately feels cozy and lived in. A neon Dee’s Kitchen sign glows against the wall, and in the corner a television plays Afrobeats videos that add a gentle rhythm to the room. It’s simple but warm, the kind of place where you can already imagine settling in for a long meal with friends.

We arrive as a group of five and grab a table while the kitchen hums in the background. Behind the counter, Dee is cooking alongside her mom and a few staff members. Before long she comes out to greet us with an easy smile. Rather than have us puzzle over the menu, she suggests bringing us a sampler platter first so we can try a range of dishes before ordering more.

She tells us that jollof rice is one of the most popular dishes, along with egusi soup and fufu.

I mention that I almost feel bad ordering so much food because it’s Ramadan and she’s fasting, but she waves the concern away with a laugh. Hospitality seems to come naturally here.

Not long after, one of the cooks steps out from the kitchen to introduce himself. He’s from Kinshasa in the Democratic Republic of Congo and chats with us for a few minutes, warm and welcoming. Looking around the dining room, it’s clear we’re the only non-Africans eating there that afternoon. If you’re searching for authenticity, that’s usually a good sign.

Soon the platter arrives.

Two soups sit side by side: efo riro and egusi, both brimming with meat. The goat pieces have a dark, almost charred edge that hints at the depth of flavour waiting inside the bowl. Mixed throughout are pieces of beef offal as well, cuts that add richness and texture.

Both dishes are deeply rooted in Yoruba cuisine, the culture Dee comes from in southwestern Nigeria. Efo riro is a vegetable soup built around leafy greens simmered down with peppers, palm oil, and spices until everything melds together into something hearty and complex. Egusi, by contrast, is made from ground melon seeds that thicken the soup and lend it a nutty, savoury flavour that has made it one of Nigeria’s most beloved dishes.

Alongside the soups comes fresh fufu.

Fufu is a staple across much of West Africa, made by pounding cassava or yam into a smooth, stretchy dough. It’s not meant to be eaten alone but used to scoop and soak up the soups. You tear off a small piece with your fingers, roll it gently, and dip it into the stew.

The fufu here is soft and fresh, almost cloudlike in texture.

The goat meat carries a deep, savoury flavour that stands up beautifully to the spices. The greens in the efo riro have a pleasant bitterness, almost like mustard greens, cutting through the richness of the palm oil. Each bite feels layered: heat from the peppers, smokiness from the meat, nuttiness from the egusi.

At one point Reeves bravely samples a piece of beef stomach but decides the texture isn’t quite for him and slides it across the table to Brent, who handles it without hesitation. Offal can be divisive, and while I found myself enjoying the deeper flavours—along with what I suspect were a few trotters mixed in—the texture isn’t everyone’s favourite.

Still, there’s unanimous agreement around the table that the flavours are exceptional.

The food is bold, spicy, and deeply comforting. You can taste the care behind it, the kind of cooking that carries the imprint of family recipes and years spent perfecting them.

Later, Dee sits down with us for a few minutes to share her story.

She first arrived in Fredericton in 2016 as an international student. At the time there were no African restaurants in the city, and even finding the right ingredients could be difficult. Sometimes she travelled to Ontario or Moncton just to pick up what she needed.

Eventually that experience sparked an idea.

She began cooking in a commercial kitchen, preparing food for events and community gatherings. Over time the demand grew, and the thought of opening a restaurant began to feel possible.

“Food is about culture, diversity, getting used to what’s going on in the environment,” she tells us.

Part of her motivation was making sure others wouldn’t face the same challenges she did when she first arrived.

“I don’t want people to go through the same thing that I went through so I decided to open a restaurant.”

Her vision wasn’t just about food but about creating a place where people could gather and relax beyond the routines of school and work.

Since arriving in Canada she has become a citizen, something she speaks about with pride. The restaurant itself opened on March 1, 2025, though if you include her years of catering beforehand she estimates she’s been in the business for about seven years.

The response has been strong.

“The turnout has been really massive,” she says.

She’s already working hard to spread the word, dropping flyers around the city and preparing to appear at the Garrison Night Market. While many first-time visitors gravitate toward the classics like jollof rice and egusi with fufu, she’s eager for people to try the restaurant’s finger foods and other traditional dishes as well.

Looking ahead, she dreams of eventually moving into a larger space. In five years she hopes the restaurant could host events, maybe even karaoke nights or Friday gatherings where people can come together for more than just a meal. She also hopes to open another branch someday, possibly in Woodstock, where there’s a growing population of international students.

“My main customers are Nigerians. But it’s actually diverse. We have different people coming in.”

Watching people enjoy the food is what motivates her most.

“Sometimes I feel great and happy when I see people eat food and enjoy, that’s what I get my happiness from.”

She also takes pride in what the restaurant represents for the local Nigerian community.

She says she’s grateful to be “able to give my community what they have—they don’t have to go all the way home to get their food.”

Running the restaurant hasn’t been without challenges. The price of proteins has risen sharply since opening, but she’s worked hard to keep portions generous despite the increases.

“I still haven’t changed the quantity or the size,” she says.

Her cooking roots trace back to Lagos, where she grew up in a family of five siblings and learned to cook early. Her mother—now working beside her in the kitchen—taught her everything she knows. The recipes themselves come from her grandmother, passed down through generations.

One day, she hopes to pass them along to her own son.

By the end of our meal the table is a cheerful mess of empty plates and sauce-streaked bowls.

We ordered the combo of efo riro and egusi soup, each served with generous portions of fufu. Earlier we had worked our way through a sampler platter that included jollof rice and village rice. Most dishes fall in the $25–30 range, and our total came to about $80, roughly $16 each before tip.

That’s why sharing is the way to go here. Portions are generous, and ordering a few dishes for the table lets you experience the range of flavours.

The beauty of Nigerian food—and especially Dee and her mom’s cooking—is how transporting it can be. Outside, Fredericton in March still means snowbanks and icy sidewalks. Inside, as you tear off a piece of fufu and dip it into a bowl of egusi, that winter chill fades away. The peppery goat, rich soup, and bold spices unfold bite after bite.

It’s food meant to be eaten with your hands, a little messy and very communal.

Meals like this aren’t about grabbing something quick before moving on with your day. They’re about passing dishes across the table, laughing with friends, and enjoying the kind of home-cooked food that carries warmth in every bite. Sharing not only makes the experience better, it also keeps the bill pleasantly manageable.

And if you want to start with a classic, Dee is making some of the best jollof rice in the city. Judging by the steady flow of customers coming in and out while we were there, Fredericton seems to be catching on.