“10/10 is for God. 9/10 is for Me. 8/10 is for the best Dish I taste,” Opeyemi Famakin,…
“Opeyemi Famakin is just seriously clout chasing, and this is his MO try to bring people’s businesses down,” the chef, Taylow Tamod, tweeted this past Sunday.
“I’m crying. That food critic Opeyemi posted a video and, this time, didn’t talk with his mouth open. Seems like bullying is part of his character development,” @Skevvy blasted in December. “Opeyemi Famakin has to do some self-introspection because why is a self-acclaimed professional food critic uncouth and tribalistic?” @feyisparkles tweeted.
Over the years, he has grown to become one of the biggest Instagram accounts in Nigerian cyberspace, dolling out opinions about restaurants and food vendors, surpassing Eat Drink Lagos, an account that started documenting the Lagos food scene long before Opeyemi Famakin took his Instagram seriously, has a namesake festival and still only 40k followers.
Join us in showcasing the cryptocurrency revolution, one newsletter at a time. Subscribe now to get daily news and market updates right to your inbox, along with our millions of other subscribers (that’s right, millions love us!) — what are you waiting for?
How Opeyemi Famakin’s story began
He had gotten a university degree in Mass Communication, where as a student, he worked for big media brands like Pulse Ng and BellaNaija. He had first-hand experience in both the young content economy and round-the-clock journalism experience, going on to become a senior editor at a music blog. At the blog, he tried to push food content. But it wasn’t their focus, so they pushed back.
“They were killing my creativity.”
Opeyemi Famakin
Out of boredom, after years on the job, Opeyemi Famakin contacted an advertising agency close to where he lived and asked if they would bring him on board. With no advertising experience, he started a new role that later saw him manage campaigns for brands like Globacom, Mouka Foam, and Golden Morn.
When a food brand approached the advertising agency that it wanted to launch a product and needed influencers, his colleagues bounced around names of beauty and fashion influencers. He asked why not food influencers instead. They suggested some chefs. He suggested himself and his 5000 followers’ Instagram account.
He was laughed at. By market metrics, with 5000 followers, he wasn’t even a micro-influencer. So he took up the challenge. It was 2019, and he said in a year, he would become the biggest food influencer in Nigerian cyberspace. He did it in nine months.
He observed the market and found that the players at the time didn’t cater to middle-class Nigerians. They zoomed in on glamorous pictures with flowery short captions. They sold a narrative that food content on Instagram didn’t involve ordering food from vendors or posting videos with friends munching trays for chicken wings at a new spot. They documented content from upscale restaurants exclusively. They denied the existence of roadside Lagos food in their bid to cater to the elusive one per cent and all those that seek to be invited to that club.
But it wasn’t a culture that they started necessarily as much as it was one they copied. Food criticism worldwide has never fully included roadside food vendors, that is, until after the pandemic.
The gospel, according to Opeyemi Famakin
Opeymi Famakin came on the scene with a new message. He blurred the lines between the food scenes. He made eating Amala great again. He posted videos of himself at White House, the famed buka spot in Yaba. He bought Suya Rice from Korede Spag.
When the lockdown happened in 2020, an opportunity presented itself. With high-end Lagos restaurants shut down, he was able to find a wider audience for his content, young Nigerians who didn’t know where to get food while sheltering at home.
Now he spends his time visiting universities across West Africa, announcing which vendor made the best alternative to meat at Babcock University and if Ghanaians had to high tolerance for alcohol. He has reviewed the spiciest noodles in the world and outlined all the problems with Dan Jazzy’s Jazzy Burger.
“Most students can’t afford the exp[ensive restaurants I go to. I cannot connect with them. How can I connect with them? By eating their food, letting them know who I am. I call it the Indomie strategy.”
Food critics, well-paid journalists at legacy magazines and newspapers who eat at high-end restaurants and write their take in the next issues of the publication or on the website have been intertwined with the fine dining industry globally. Opeyemi Famakin, however, said Nigeria doesn’t have fine dining yet.
He says that fine dining is not complete if the food doesn’t tell the story of the indigenous people.
But he has faced criticism of unfair reviews. Critics say that by reviewing upscale restaurants and bukas on the same account, he puts them in the same category. They argue that the meticulousness of upscale restaurants should count for something. He says that that is not the case; he rates restaurants and bukas with different benchmarks. They say that a seven from Opeyemi Famakin is still a seven from Opeyemi Famakin.
Does he even still think of himself as a journalist?
What does he think of the New York Time food editor, Yewande Komolafe restyling Nigerian jollof rice in a way that critics say could send the cost of making it up?
Currently, he has started a new series, Market Waka, where he visits local markets and documents his experience there. He is also working on a new food show for a soon-to-launch food channel on DSTV. He has plans to travel across Africa, exploring food cultures, and “educating Nigerians.”
Fire questions with Opeyemi Famakin
Zero plans to do that. I will never start a restaurant, but I can be a silent partner.
Indomie
Pasta and pancake. Deep down, I’m a basic bitch.
Amala or jollof rice.