Twin sisters. One snack. We took a classic we grew up with and reimagined it for modern sharing.
Our grandmother made chin chin from memory, no recipe card, just her hands. Our siblings and I would crowd around her, help with the rolling and the cutting, and sneak pieces before they even hit the oil. It was never just a snack. It was a memory.
When we moved to Canada, that recipe felt like something we'd left in Nigeria. Then she passed, and something in us refused to let it go. One rushed morning before class, we made a batch ourselves, off nothing but muscle memory. It wasn't perfect. But for a moment, she was back in the kitchen with us.
"For a moment, she was back in the kitchen with us."
We come from a family of builders, our grandfather ran a soap company and a driving school, and we grew up pitching in wherever we were needed. That instinct stuck: don't wait until it's all figured out, just start. So when a market on campus gave us a shot, we packaged up chin chin and showed up.
What stayed with us wasn't the sell-out, it was what people said while they ate it. Over and over: this reminds me of something from home. Not just Nigeria. Everywhere. That's when we understood: this was a feeling a lot of people were missing, and didn't have a word for.
We argued for a while over what to call it before landing on the obvious answer: we're twins, and it's chin chin. TwinChin. That first batch still wasn't shaped perfectly, we cut everything by hand, and honestly, we still do, but it was ours, made the way she taught us. People came back for more anyway.
We're 19, still full-time students, and we've learned you don't need everything lined up to start. We've watched our family do exactly that our whole lives.
The recipe came from her. Chapter two is being filmed live, @twinchinofficial.
Every batch is shaped by us, imperfect edges included. As we grow, we're working toward tools that help us scale without losing the handmade feel.
Chin chin comes in small cube bites for a reason, pass a handful to whoever's next to you. That's how we've always eaten it.
Between the crunch and the warmth of nutmeg, a small handful with a glass of water genuinely holds you over.
TwinChin started as our grandmother's recipe, made from memory, not a factory formula. We're keeping it that way as long as we can.
Catch us at a pop-up, or book us for your next event.
