My Masa Journey: Soft, Chewy Nigerian Fermented Rice Cakes

I first tasted masa at a busy suya spot in Abuja, and I still remember the contrast: a crisp golden shell giving way to a soft, spongy, slightly tangy center. In 2026, I keep a bowl of rice soaking on my counter more often than ever, because masa, also called waina, is one of those foods that rewards patience without demanding constant attention. It is a northern Nigerian specialty, and it fits beautifully into breakfast, lunch, dinner, or a late snack. I make it sweet with honey and fruit, or savory with suya, yaji, sliced tomato, and red onion. Sometimes I dip it into miyan taushe and wash it down with cold zobo. The recipe is simple, but the fermentation is where the character lives.

What Masa Is and Why I Love It

Masa are spherical fermented rice cakes cooked in a pan with deep wells. A traditional kasko pan is made from clay or aluminum, and an aebleskiver pan works well too, though its wells are usually narrower. The batter is built from soaked tuwo rice, cooked rice, yeast, sugar, and salt. Some versions use rice flour, millet, cornmeal, wheat, or semolina, but I keep coming back to the rice-based batter because it gives me that chewy, spongy interior I crave. The sugars in the rice caramelize during cooking, so the outside turns crisp and golden while the inside stays tender.

I grew up in Nigeria, but I did not learn to make masa until later. I knew poffertjes from time in the Netherlands, and I was amused to discover that my own Nigerian masa uses a similar welled pan. That personal history is part of why I love it: masa feels both familiar and newly discovered. It is also flexible. I can sweeten the batter with sugar and honey, flavor it with onion or ginger, or add yogurt for a gentle tang. My favorite version is sweet with a slight sourness from yogurt, because the yogurt helps fermentation along and gives the finished cake a more complex flavor.

The Batter Is a Small Ecosystem

Soaking is the first step, and I do not rush it. I wash the rice until the water turns cloudy, drain it, then cover it with filtered water and let it sit for at least 6 hours and up to 12 hours. I usually start the night before. During that long soak, wild yeasts begin to feed on the sugars in the rice starch. That early microbial activity helps the batter ferment properly later. The rice whitens, almost doubles in volume, softens, and sometimes develops a light sweet aroma.

After soaking, I blend the drained rice with cooked white rice, yogurt, sugar, instant yeast, salt, and water. The cooked rice is important because it contributes to the chewy texture. Onion is optional, and I mean that seriously: it adds a pronounced aroma and flavor that not everyone wants in a sweet masa. I blend until the batter is thick and creamy, with just a touch of grit when rubbed between my fingers. Then I cover it and let it ferment in a warm place for about 2 hours, until it smells like sweet rice and has doubled in volume.

Fermentation is a matter of preference. A shorter ferment gives me a sweeter masa. A longer ferment develops sour, tangy flavors that balance the sweetness of the rice. If I let it go longer, the batter goes through a rise-and-collapse cycle, smells yeasty like beer, becomes more liquid, and forms more bubbles. If I listen closely, I can hear it bubbling. I like that reminder that the batter is alive.

How I Make Masa at Home

Here is the ingredient framework I use. Ratios matter: too much water or cooked rice can lead to a soft, gummy interior, so I keep the balance tight.

1. Soak the rice. Wash it, drain it, cover it with at least 2 inches of filtered water, and soak for 6 to 12 hours. 🍚

2. Blend the batter. Combine the drained soaked rice with cooked rice, yogurt, 1 tablespoon of sugar, yeast, salt, water, and onion if using. Blend until thick and creamy.

3. Ferment. Cover and leave in a warm place for about 2 hours, or longer for a tangier masa. Watch for doubling, bubbles, and a sweet or yeasty aroma. 🫧

4. Finish the batter. Stir in the remaining 1 tablespoon sugar and the baking powder. Whisk gently to make the batter uniform, because rice starches settle over time.

5. Cook. Grease a kasko or aebleskiver pan, fill the wells, and cook until the edges set and bubbles form on top. Flip and cook until golden, with a little white from the rice peeking through. 🥞

I serve masa warm, but I let them cool just enough to handle. The outside should be crunchy, the inside spongy, and the aroma should remind me of cooked rice, sometimes with a yeasty sourdough tang. A batch yields about 16 to 18 masa and serves 4. Prep time is roughly 6 hours 15 minutes, cook time 15 minutes, fermenting time 2 hours, and total time about 8 hours 30 minutes. Most of that is hands-off, which is why I can fit it around a normal day.

Serving, Leftovers, and Practical Notes

Sweet masa with honey or syrup and fruit is my easy breakfast. Savory masa with suya, yaji, tomato, and red onion is my favorite dinner. The same batter can make sinasir, the airy flat pancakes from northern Nigeria that resemble thin, large crumpets. I have also flavored masa batter with ground turmeric or cinnamon and achieved the same pleasing texture. Leftover masa makes a great gluten-free slider bun, and chopped leftover masa stir-fried with suya, tomatoes, red onions, and bell peppers makes a fine hash, especially with yaji and a peanut butter dipping sauce. I have even wondered about drying cooked masa into crackers, though that experiment is still in progress.

Storage is straightforward. Cooked masa keeps in an airtight container for up to 7 days at room temperature. I reheat it covered with a damp paper towel in the microwave for 30 seconds to 1 minute, until hot and soft. The batter can be refrigerated for up to 3 days; it may thin and sour, so I whisk in all-purpose flour or rice flour, 1 tablespoon at a time, until it looks like heavy cream. The blended mixture can be made ahead without yeast and refrigerated for up to 1 week. Drained soaked rice keeps for up to 3 days in an airtight container. I can halve the recipe if my blender is small, or double it for a crowd.

Masa takes time, but it is not fussy. It is a patient food: a long soak, a lively ferment, a hot pan, and a short flip. That rhythm is exactly why I keep making it in 2026. The reward is a cake that is crisp, chewy, sweet, sour, and deeply satisfying, whether I eat it with honey or suya. 🍯🌶️

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