Eru.

Eru takes its name from Gnetum africanum, a slow-growing forest vine harvested wild across the Congo Basin rather than farmed in any serious quantity. In Cameroon it is a Bayangi dish above all, closely identified with Manyu division in the South West, though it travelled with people and now turns up in Douala, Yaoundé and every Cameroonian diaspora kitchen from London to Maryland. In the francophone centre and south a very close relative is called okok, cooked with the same shredded leaf but often with a groundnut base instead of palm oil, and the two camps do not entirely agree on which is the original.

The leaf is the constraint. Eru grows slowly, resists cultivation, and is harvested by hand from the forest, which has made it both expensive and a genuine conservation concern as demand across Central Africa outpaces what the wild population regenerates. Shredding it is its own labour — traditionally rolled into a tight bundle and sliced into hair-fine strands, a skill that separates a good plate from a coarse one. Frozen pre-shredded eru sold abroad exists precisely because nobody wants to do that job twice.

The pairing with waterleaf is not decorative. Eru alone would scorch; waterleaf is roughly ninety per cent water and releases enough liquid to steam the tougher leaf into submission without adding stock, which is why the traditional method uses almost no added water at all. Palm oil goes in generously and unapologetically — this is not a light dish and was never meant to be. Cow skin, called kanda, is the other signature: simmered until soft and gelatinous, it adds body and a slippery texture that Cameroonians consider essential and that newcomers usually need one plate to get used to. Served with garri, the granular fermented cassava that sours slightly on the tongue, the whole thing balances.