An unplanned night at Red Skillet

I have never been one to do anything on a whim. I plan, calculate, overthink and mentally rehearse almost every move before I make it. But life becomes a little less predictable when your friends are the complete opposite.

On Saturday night, their unpredictability won.

After spending the entire day glued to our phones, endlessly scrolling through social media and pretending we were resting, someone suddenly suggested we go out for dinner. At 9 p.m.

On a normal day, I would have said no. Lagos traffic, late-night stress, the possibility of disappointment, all valid reasons to stay home. But there is a saying that some of the best moments in life are unplanned, and maybe that was enough reason to take the chance.

That chance led us to Red Skillet in Magodo GRA.

Magodo, by the way, is quietly becoming one of Lagos’ underrated food hubs. Every street seems to hide a restaurant, lounge or late-night spot trying to outdo the next.

Getting there was surprisingly easy. No unnecessary stress locating the place, no confusing turns, no calling for directions every five minutes. Small wins like that already set the mood right in Lagos.

But the moment we stepped into Red Skillet, reality interrupted the fantasy a little.

The first thing that greeted us was the strong smell of weed hanging heavily in the air. There was a football match that night, and the outdoor seating area felt more like a viewing centre than a restaurant. Loud commentary, smoke, groups of men deeply invested in the game, definitely not the calm dinner setting we imagined.

My friend even paused and asked, “Wait, is this the restaurant?”

We immediately asked if there was another seating option, and thankfully there was. We were directed indoors, with a warning that it was also a snooker area filled mostly with men playing games. At that point, anything felt better than inhaling smoke while trying to enjoy dinner.

Oddly enough, the indoor space gave me my first moment of nostalgia that night.

The seats were benches. Not the most comfortable setup, but not terrible either. Growing up, my church used benches instead of chairs, so sitting there instantly transported me back to childhood Sundays — long services, restless legs and the oddly comforting sound of wooden benches shifting during prayer.

It is funny how restaurants can sometimes remind you of places completely unrelated to food.

A waiter eventually came over with a menu that had clearly lived a full life already. Worn edges, fading print and slight creases.

The options themselves were familiar: starters, mains, burgers, fries and platters. Nothing too experimental, nothing trying too hard to be fancy. The prices were also refreshingly reasonable, which made their “affordable gourmet meals” tagline feel honest.

I initially wanted to order the Shayo Busta, mostly because it came with garri.

That detail alone sold me.

There is something deeply Nigerian about garri that instantly feels personal. I have had it countless times at home, but never in a restaurant setting, and I was curious to see how that experience would feel. Unfortunately, the garri was unavailable, and with that, my mini adventure died before it even started.

Red Skillet said, “Not today.”

I eventually settled for chicken kebab and chips, served with ketchup and a pepper sauce that completely stole the show. Smoky, spicy and genuinely flavorful, it was the kind of sauce that quietly upgrades a simple meal.

For drinks, I ordered a cranberry-based smoothie whose name I honestly cannot remember anymore. Maybe that says something about the drink, or maybe I was just too hungry at that point. Either way, I have noticed myself gravitating toward cranberry drinks lately, so the choice felt automatic.

My friend ordered what the menu described as Chinese stir-fry pasta, though the flavors leaned far more Nigerian than Chinese. Not necessarily a bad thing, just not what the name prepares you for.

Drinks became another adventure entirely because several options on the menu were unavailable, forcing multiple changes before my friend eventually settled for a Fayrouz.

And then came the waiting.

Our food took over 30 minutes to arrive, which is worth knowing if you are the impatient type or someone squeezing dinner into a tight schedule. By the time the meals arrived, exhaustion had already started creeping in, so we asked for takeaway packs instead.

One thing I will give Red Skillet credit for: the packaging was excellent. Clean, sturdy and thoughtfully done.

For both meals and drinks, the bill came to ₦25,900.

Red Skillet is probably not the restaurant you visit for aesthetics or perfectly curated Instagram pictures. It does not scream luxury, and parts of the experience feel rough around the edges. But underneath all that, it stays committed to the one thing that matters most: the food.

And maybe that is what made the night memorable.

Not perfection. Not aesthetics. Not even the chaos.

Just the beauty of saying yes to an unplanned night in Lagos and discovering that sometimes, even flawed experiences make good stories.