Afro-diasporic cuisine has shaped flavors, techniques, and identities in Brazil and around the world based on ancestral knowledge. Learn more!
Submitted at Feb 11, 2026, 2:00 PM
A culinária afro-diaspórica vive nos ingredientes do dia a dia: dendê, quiabo, feijão-fradinho e memória ancestral no mesmo prato. (iStock/Divulgação)
Much of what we now recognize as "Brazilian cuisine" was born from a forced meeting of cultures, territories, and knowledge. Among them, the culinary knowledge brought by African peoples formed a deep, yet historically invisible, base of our everyday food.
Mais que receita, cada preparo carrega técnicas, saberes e histórias transmitidas por gerações sem registros escritos. (Jhonny Brasil/Aline Chermoula/Divulgação)
It is in this territory full of cultural mixtures that the Afro-diasporic cuisine gains space in contemporary discussions about identity, recognition, and the valorization of knowledge that have profoundly shaped our collective palate.
A chef e pesquisadora Aline Chermoula traduz a culinária afro-diaspórica para a linguagem contemporânea sem perder sua alma ancestral. (Jhonny Brasil/Aline Chermoula/Divulgação)
As defined by chef, researcher, and entrepreneur Aline Chermoula, born in Feira de Santana, Bahia: "Afro-diasporic cuisine is the set of food practices, techniques, ingredients, and culinary cosmologies that traveled with African peoples forced into diaspora, through the transatlantic slave trade, and that were reinvented in the Americas, the Caribbean, Europe, and Brazil."
Fermentar, fritar, cozinhar lentamente: tecnologias ancestrais que moldaram a base da cozinha brasileira. (Jhonny Brasil/Aline Chermoula/Divulgação)
This cuisine is the result of displacement, adaptation, and creativity in the face of scarcity. "It is not just 'African food in Brazil', but a living system of memory, resistance, and cultural creation, where recipes, ways of doing, and symbolic meanings have been passed down through generations, often without written records," explains Aline.
Comemos África todos os dias — muitas vezes sem perceber a origem desses sabores. (Jhonny Brasil/Aline Chermoula/Divulgação)
It is a cuisine that is born not only from the historical violence suffered by a people but also from the radical invention of life. Techniques were preserved orally, ingredients were reinterpreted with what was available, and new combinations emerged as a response to imposed conditions. Each dish thus becomes a historical document.
temperos (Andra Ion/Unsplash/Divulgação)
Diverse foods present in Brazilian daily life carry this heritage. Palm oil, coconut oil, plantain, okra, cilantro, cumin, jackfruit, and black-eyed peas are some examples. Grains, roots, and tubers such as yam, cassava, and corn have also been reinterpreted based on African techniques of processing, grinding, and cooking.
[caption id="698b2baa26e5c5f75ac184d3" width="736" data-alt="Yam, cassava, corn, and plantain reveal how adaptation to the tropics became a culinary strategy." data-caption="Yam, cassava, corn, and plantain reveal how adaptation to the tropics became a culinary strategy." data-credit="Annie Spratt/Unsplash" data-source-id="68f2b8ff98f18c7f5f5e4deb" data-source-name="Disclosure"]
[/caption>According to Aline, many of these choices were not just culinary but strategic: they were about ingredients that were adaptable to tropical ecosystems and capable of sustaining entire communities. Eating, in this context, was also an act of cultural survival.
[/caption>Spontaneous fermentations, deep frying in vegetable oil, whole use of food, and slow cooking are culinary technologies inherited from this African matrix. The preparation of acarajé, for example, involves precise control of fermentation of the black-eyed pea dough, a sophisticated empirical knowledge.
[caption id="698b2f0226e5c5f75ac184dc" width="736" data-alt="In acarajé, the fermented black-eyed pea dough and the bath in palm oil tell a story of technique, faith, and ancestry at the table." data-caption="In acarajé, the fermented black-eyed pea dough and the bath in palm oil tell a story of technique, faith, and ancestry at the table." data-credit="iStock" data-source-id="68f2b8ff98f18c7f5f5e4deb" data-source-name="Disclosure"]
[/caption>"Ancestral technology is not folklore: it is sophisticated empirical science. It involves controlling fermentation, preserving without refrigeration, and nutrition based on tropical ecosystems," emphasizes the chef. These practices reveal a profound mastery of food, time, and projects.
[/caption>Rescuing Afro-diasporic cuisine is also a political gesture. For centuries, this knowledge has been considered inferior, being appropriated or erased from the official narrative of gastronomy. Claiming it is recognizing African culinary intelligence as one of the main foundations of Brazilian cuisine.
[caption id="698b30b626e5c5f75ac184e4" width="736" data-alt="Each spice, each technique, and each combination reveal a story that persists in the daily kitchen." data-caption="Each spice, each technique, and each combination reveal a story that persists in the daily kitchen." data-credit="Jhonny Brasil/Aline Chermoula" data-source-id="68f2b8ff98f18c7f5f5e4deb" data-source-name="Disclosure"]
[/caption>Moreover, it is about preserving an immaterial heritage. Many of these techniques survive only in the daily practice of cooks who learned from their families, without official records. Valuing this knowledge is ensuring its continuity.
[/caption>The same African culinary matrix gave rise to emblematic dishes in different parts of the world: in Brazil, acarajé, vatapá, and caruru; in the Caribbean, gumbo, jerk, and callaloo; in the United States, soul food; and in Latin America, reinterpretations of tamales and moles. This connection reveals a global black cuisine, born from the diaspora and connected by shared flavors, techniques, and memories. As Aline summarizes, "Afro-diasporic cuisine is not the past: it is the invisible matrix of gastronomic modernity."
[caption id="698b321226e5c5f75ac184f0" width="736" data-alt="Among smells, colors, and textures, the diaspora continues to tell its story on the plate." data-caption="Among smells, colors, and textures, the diaspora continues to tell its story on the plate." data-credit="Jhonny Brasil/Aline Chermoula" data-source-id="68f2b8ff98f18c7f5f5e4deb" data-source-name="Disclosure"]
[/caption>Food also builds who we are as culture and social body. "We eat Africa every day without knowing," says the chef. Spices such as ginger, malagueta pepper, basil, and bitter yard leaves reveal how this heritage remains alive in everyday life, even though many people do not recognize its origin. Being aware of this is essential to understand, shape, and preserve cultural identities.
[caption id="698b328226e5c5f75ac184f1" width="736" data-alt="Chefs like Aline Chermoula play an essential role in rescuing and valuing the knowledge of Afro-diasporic cuisine, connecting tradition and contemporaneity." data-caption="Chefs like Aline Chermoula play an essential role in rescuing and valuing the knowledge of Afro-diasporic cuisine, connecting tradition and contemporaneity." data-credit="Jhonny Brasil/Aline Chermoula" data-source-id="68f2b8ff98f18c7f5f5e4deb" data-source-name="Disclosure"]
[/caption>Today, chefs and researchers have translated this knowledge into the vocabulary of haute cuisine without removing its ancestral soul. "My work is to translate Afro-diasporic cuisine into the vocabulary of haute cuisine and contemporary thought, without removing its ancestral soul. It is a cuisine that thinks, speaks, and claims its place in the world." Cooking the diaspora is cooking memory in motion: when we talk about palm oil, we talk about struggle, resistance, history, and future.
CASACOR Publisher is a creator of exclusive content, developed by CASACOR's Technology team based on the knowledge base of casacor.com.br. This text was edited by Yeska Coelho.
