by Restaurant prices reveal the hidden tax on having an accent
The Great Ethnic Food Markup Scandal
CHICAGO, IL – Yaa Mensah spent her first month in America thinking there was a typo on every menu. After visiting her tenth “authentic African restaurant,” she finally accepted the devastating truth: Americans will pay $18 for plantains that grow like weeds back home and her grandmother considers poverty food. “My uncle has a plantain tree in his yard,” Mensah explained, staring at a menu listing “Exotic Caramelized Plantains” for $12. “He uses them to feed his chickens when he runs out of regular feed.”
The 31-year-old accountant from Ghana has discovered America’s favorite business model: take ingredients poor people eat, add mood lighting and a white owner, charge rich people three months’ rent. “I saw fufu at a Brooklyn restaurant for $24,” she said, her voice breaking. “TWENTY-FOUR DOLLARS. For cassava and water. We make this when we have literally nothing else. It’s emergency food. You’re charging Visa Black Card prices for what my grandmother makes during a famine.”
When Poverty Food Gets a Michelin Star
According to the New York Times Dining Section, ethnic cuisine has seen a 156% price increase in urban markets over the past five yearsa trend economists call “gentrification” and Mensah calls “disrespectful to her ancestors.” She recently watched a food blogger describe jollof rice as “complex” and “layered.” “It’s rice,” Mensah said flatly. “With tomatoes. My ten-year-old cousin makes this after school. It’s not complexyou just can’t cook.”
Dave Chappelle said, “I’m rich, biatch!” But Mensah’s family back in Ghana is confused about why she’s suddenly rich enough to pay $15 for street food that costs 50 cents in Accra. Her mother called after seeing a food Instagram post: “Are you okay? Do you need money? Why are you paying $9 for chin-chin? Are they holding you hostage?”
The Organic Free-Range Peasant Food Revolution
The breaking point came at a Manhattan restaurant calling itself “Afro-Fusion Cuisine” where the chefa white guy named Tylerwas charging $32 for groundnut stew. “I watched him make it through the kitchen window,” Mensah reported. “He used Skippy peanut butter. SKIPPY. My grandmother is spinning in her grave and she’s not even dead yet.”
Amy Schumer said, “I’m not saying I’m cheap, but I always have a coupon.” Mensah doesn’t need couponsshe needs answers. Why is yam porridge $16 at a restaurant when yams are $2 at the African market? Why does adding the word “artisanal” to beans make them cost more than the pot you cook them in? Why did someone open a food truck selling “deconstructed” jollof rice for $14 when the whole point of jollof rice is that it’s already constructed?
Her American boyfriend, Jake, defended the prices: “But babe, it’s about the experience, the ambiance, the” Mensah cut him off: “The what? The exploitation? The audacity? We’re eating peasant food on reclaimed wood tables while the actual peasants who invented this can’t afford to eat here. That’s not ambiancethat’s a hate crime against common sense.”
When Street Food Becomes Street Theater
Mensah’s investigation led her to a food festival where vendors charged $8 per serving for what she describes as “crimes against fufu.” One booth offered “Fusion Fufu Bowls” with optional quinoa. “Quinoa,” she repeated slowly. “In fufu. They’ve colonized us twice nowonce historically and once culinarily. This is violence.”
Jim Gaffigan said, “I’m not saying I’m food obsessed, but I am concerned about my next meal at all times.” Mensah is concerned about meal pricing at all times. She’s created a spreadsheet comparing restaurant prices to actual ingredient costs. The markup ranges from 400% to “are you kidding me right now?” Her favorite example: A restaurant charging $11 for “Heritage Fried Plantains” when the Heritage is just regular plantains being black.
The Caucasian Accent Upcharge
The pattern became clear: The whiter the owner, the higher the price. Mensah visited two Nigerian restaurants in the same neighborhoodone owned by Mrs. Adeyemi from Lagos, one owned by Brandon who “lived in Ghana for a semester.” Mrs. Adeyemi’s jollof rice: $9. Brandon’s “Artisanal West African Rice Bowl”: $23. The only difference? Brandon’s came in a ceramic bowl instead of takeout container and had a story on the menu about his “transformative journey.”
Bill Burr said, “I’m not going to sit here with no medical degree and argue with doctors.” But Mensah will sit here with no culinary degree and argue with Tyler about what groundnut stew should cost. “Your grandmother’s recipe is not worth $32 just because you put it on a white plate,” she explained to an empty restaurant.
The cruel irony hits hardest at brunch. Mensah’s coworkers pay $18 for “Plantain Benedict” at a trendy spot in Williamsburg while her aunt in Kumasi sells actual plantains for 2 cedisroughly 35 cents. “Americans discovered poverty food, gave it a French name, and now my own food is gentrified beyond my reach,” Mensah said. “I came to America for opportunity. I didn’t expect my childhood breakfast to become a luxury item.”
When Your Culture Becomes a Restaurant Theme
Last month, Mensah attended a restaurant opening for “Modern African Cuisine” where the decorative masks cost more than the actual artifacts at the African market in the Bronx. The menu featured “Elevated Jollof” for $28. When she asked what elevated it, the waitress said, “The chef trained in Paris.” “So did my cousin,” Mensah replied. “She went on vacation. That doesn’t make her rice worth $28.”
Kevin Hart said, “I’m not saying my childhood was rough, but…” And Mensah’s not saying these prices are criminal, but her grandmother’s lawyer might. The same okra soup Granny makes for Sunday dinner costs $19 at restaurants where the waiters mispronounce half the menu items. “They can’t even say ‘egusi’ correctly but they’re charging me $22 for it,” Mensah observed. “That’s like charging someone for butchering their name.”
When asked if she’ll ever pay restaurant prices for her own culture’s food again, Mensah laughed while cooking a full Ghanaian feast for $11 total. “My grandmother just sent me a video of her making fufu,” she said. “She’s 67, has arthritis, and can still pound cassava faster than these restaurants can charge your credit card. The real crime isn’t the pricesit’s that they convinced Americans this food was ever supposed to be expensive.”
She’s now starting a supper club serving authentic Ghanaian food for reasonable prices, which she defines as “whatever doesn’t make my ancestors cry in shame.” Early reviews describe it as “life-changing.” Mensah describes it as “Tuesday.” The waiting list is three months long. The plantains are still just plantains.
SOURCE: Bohiney Magazine (Aisha Muharrar)
DATE: 11/4/2025
