Many of my weekends growing up in Southern Africa involved opening a paper-wrapped parcel of peri peri chicken, making sure the sauce didn’t drip out onto everything. It was often a full chicken, cut into pieces to be shared by my family on the kitchen table, or even in the back seat of the car after a night out with friends. It was a takeout staple (along with other options like fish and chips, or sweet and sour chicken), that we could always rely on being a crowd-pleaser. (We once took my friend to get some on the way home from her wedding. When you see a bride eating peri peri chicken in her wedding dress out of the trunk of a car, you know it’s good chicken.)