Baydoun B.
Google
I walked into Badou Senegalese Cuisine not expecting much—just a warm meal and a quiet break from the wind cutting through Howard Street. Instead, I ended up stepping into one of the most soulful dining experiences I’ve had in Chicago.
The evening began with the Fataya, small golden hand pies that arrived steaming hot. One bite and the crispy shell gave way to perfectly seasoned meat, and when dipped in the spicy house tomato sauce, it tasted like something crafted with memory, not just technique.
Then came the dish I will remember for a long time: Thiebou Djeun. It arrived like a feast—rice tinted the color of sunset, a whole tender fish laid across the top, and vegetables so soft and aromatic they almost melted under the fork. Every bite tasted like it carried history. Smoky, tomato-rich, slow-built flavor that can only come from hours of patience. It was the kind of plate you eat slowly because you don’t want the experience to end.
The Yassa Chicken followed, bright and tangy, with onions cooked down until sweet and glossy. The charred chicken was tender, but it was the lemon-onion sauce that transformed the dish—it hit every corner of the palate.
I thought I was done, but curiosity led me to the Dibi Lamb. Flame-kissed, mustard-marinated, and full of personality. Each piece was smoky with crisp edges and juicy centers, balanced by raw onions that added crunch and sweetness.
By the time I tasted the rich, velvety Mafe, I understood why this restaurant has such a loyal following. It’s not just food—it’s comfort, tradition, and pride on a plate.
When I finally stepped back outside into the cold Chicago night, I felt warmer than when I entered. Badou didn’t just serve me dinner. It gave me a story to take with me.