Food Network’s resident fly guy chef Eric Adjepong understands that flavor is built in the fabric of Black history. Ghana to the World: Recipes and Stories That Look Forward While Honoring the Past is a delicious look into how West Africa, the Caribbean and African-American culture converges then expands on one another. Ghana to the World is a poetic merge about life’s various flavors coming together on a cohesive plate. With recipes like Waakye Stew that call on his traditional Ghanian heritage to modernized spice experiences like the Curried Corn Bisque With Salmon, plus red-drink classics like the Sobolo, a hibiscus iced tea enhanced with spices, readers will observe Eric weave together lineage and the spoon.

Readers begin in Ghana’s Makola Market where we’re submerged into the commotions, colors and scents. We smell the foods with him, and zip between aisles of fabrics, spices and essential oils. Much like moving through New York City, when you understand the chaos and its purpose, you begin to synergize and move along with it. As we sift through the recipes with him, we’re brought into the stories about his family. Ghana to the World is a coming-of-age story where Eric’s life experiences simmer in stews, sauces and swallows.

Eric holds hands with tradition and guides the reader through his home and his adventures. We get to read stories about his mother gliding through their small kitchen in New York, taking up a whole afternoon to develop complex flavors for her stews. You can feel the adrenaline of zipping through the city in a taxi with his father, experiencing the city's different scents and flavors. There are hints of joy popping in the brightness of Dad’s Onion Rings and Zip Sauce. There’s serenity in the Sweet Potato Peanut Stew, where the addition of his Mom’s Hot Pepper Sauce rises and the bright spice coalesces with the warm, creamy peanut, turning the dish into a dynamic experience. Readers get swaths of hot peppers and ginger. And garlic lovers, this one’s for you — we finally have someone who understands! (I’m looking at you, quarter cup of garlic in the Groundnut Soup With Guinea Fowl.)

Bubbling between recipes are stories about taking a chance on yourself, contemplating microaggressions, heritage and the ingredients that make up those conflicting emotions. There are reflections on his travels, and the influence of West African culture in the Americas, while still feeling the drift between two cultures. Ghana to the World is a reflection on loss, family, tradition and what it means to be protective of a cuisine in an industry that has taken its sweet time to recognize its capacity for elegance.

We got the chance to speak with Eric about his Ghanaian heritage and how his family inspires the pepper on the plate.

In the book, but also through your general food philosophy expressed in cooking competitions, I’ve observed you centralize West African, Caribbean and Black American cuisine. What do you hope Ghana to the World showcases about your culinary philosophy?

At its core, Ghana to the World is about connection. It’s about how food travels, transforms and still holds memories. My philosophy has always been rooted in honoring where I come from while embracing where I am. Ghanaian cuisine isn’t isolated; it lives in conversation with the Caribbean, with Black American foodways and with the broader diaspora. I want people to see that these cuisines aren’t separate. They are layered expressions of the same story. Techniques, ingredients and flavors moved through history, and what I try to do is present them with intention, refinement and respect. This book is me saying that our food is global, nuanced and belongs in every culinary conversation.

Which recipes from this book do you feel changed the most since the initial draft?

The recipes that changed the most were the ones where I had to strike a balance between authenticity and accessibility. Dishes like jollof, stews and even components like shito evolved quite a bit. Early on, I was writing the way I cook, which is instinctive, layered and sometimes unmeasured. For the book, I had to translate that into something repeatable without losing its soul. That meant refining ratios, simplifying certain processes and rethinking techniques so someone at home could still achieve depth of flavor.

You spoke about living in the Bronx and being exposed to a variety of cuisines. Are there any recipes in this book that were inspired by restaurants you frequented when you were young?

It’s not always a direct reference, but the spirit of accessibility, flavors and cultural overlap is present in many of the dishes in the book.

Dad’s Onion Rings was a really fun recipe that I wasn’t expecting! You brought forth this wholesome tribute to your dad, who really loved onion rings from Burger King ... Is there a specific memory with your dad and the onion rings that made you hone in on that recipe for the book?

By far the most personal recipe and headnote in the book. Spending time with my father as he drove his cab around in New York City are priceless moments for me and I’m glad I was [able] to honor him with that recipe.

What would you say is the most challenging recipe in this book, and what are some workarounds?

Some of the more traditional stews (Waakye, Fante Fante, Shito) and layered dishes can be challenging because they require patience and an understanding of how flavor develops over time. They are not necessarily difficult in technique, but they demand attention. The best workaround is to build flavor in stages. Taste as you go and don’t rush the process. If needed, break the dish into components that can be prepared ahead of time. It’s also important to stay flexible with ingredients while focusing on balance and depth.

You showcase Sobolo in your book; have you noticed any major regional differences in how different countries approach the drink? How did this inspire your approach for the recipe in the book?

What’s beautiful about hibiscus drinks across the diaspora is that they share a common foundation, but the expression changes depending on geography and culture. In Ghana, Sobolo leans into spice with ingredients like grains of selim and ginger. In the Caribbean, where it's called sorrel, you often see more allspice, citrus or even rum. In Latin America, the drink can be brighter and more floral.

For my version, I focused on balance. I wanted it to feel distinctly Ghanaian while still being familiar to anyone who has experienced a version of this drink elsewhere. It’s layered, refreshing and grounded in tradition.

If you were to have a cookout only pulling recipes from this book, which ones would be on the serving table? Which one is your centerpiece?

The menu would include jollof rice, a suya-spiced fried chicken, chichinga and any of the plantain dishes, Sobolo and my Dad’s Onion Rings. The centerpiece would be the jollof. It always is. It anchors the table and carries so much cultural significance while bringing everything together.

Considering the timing of both, it seems like you were working on your restaurant, Elmina, at the same time you were working on Ghana to the World. Are there any special details that emerged from either of these projects because you were working on them at the same time?

They definitely influenced each other. The book kept me grounded in tradition, storytelling and home-style cooking, while Elmina pushed me to refine, elevate and think more deeply about presentation and progression.

Ideas moved between both projects. Techniques became more precise because of the restaurant, and storytelling became stronger because of the book. Working on both at the same time helped clarify my voice as a chef.

There are recipes that remain and transform with us through different periods in our lives. The same ingredients made to perform differently depending on our joys, our griefs and transition periods. Is there a recipe in this book that you feel evolved with you?

The Curried Corn Bisque was one of the first dishes I worked on after graduating culinary school. It was my audition dish and what got me in the door to Top Chef and is currently on the menu at Elmina. It’s a dish that I feel like is a part of my culinary personality.