I tried Palace Gate last night, and had a positive experience. "Positive experience" = circumlocutory way of praising the place without praising the food, yes, okay, but that is because: this was my first time with Ghanian food, I had no benchmark for comparison, the food
seemed good to me, or at least interesting, and the people were friendly.
The place is small, overlit with fluorescent lights, and the chairs are all of the folding variety. There were two TVs, on opposite walls, and they were playing different things (one of them was muted, thankfully). We got there past closing time, I think, but they seemed happy to seat us, and I got the sense that "closing time" was pretty fluid & symbolic. We were the only diners in the place. (There was, though, a steady stream of presumably Ghanian people who came and went, chatting and watching television, until actual closing time. Then, we all left the place together, shutting the lights and locking the door.)
Ordering your dinner is like explaining to a tattoo artist the kind of design you'd like... there's a few basic templates, it's a collaborative process, and ultimately, you have to trust the guy. In our case, the tattoo artist had a very limited command of English, which may have been frightening if we'd been getting an actual tattoo, but this was just dinner, and we had few expectations or prejudices about it-- we were expecting to be surprised, anyway.
They were out of palmnut soup, so we had peanut soup. There was a good deal of oil in the soup, which tended to separate & rise above the chalky-peanut-slurry base, but was easily re-mixed with a little agitation. I was pretty sure the soup's meat was goat, and I think there was some tripey pieces... definitely some bone... but I can't speak with authority on the animal of origin. The soup had a nutty, light-peanut taste and a good deal of spice; I think we were warned about this before ordering.
For starches, we picked plantains and yam; both seemed to have had the flavor boiled out of them, and seemed there primarily to substantiate the soup. I treated them as Things That Get Dipped. The yam-- the enormous African kind-- tasted kind of like boiled yucca, and the plantains tasted like plantains minus the plantain taste.
Here's what it looked like:
As noted before, the menu has no prices, but our dinners worked out to $8 each (plus $1 extra for a doggy bag). I don't know if that included the bottle of water which we'd been given, unsolicited. One of the ladies who had been mingling with everyone, and whom I had no inkling was involved in the running of the restaurant, stepped forward to announce the total and collect our bill.
I have no idea how typical this meal was, or how it might compare to exemplars of the genre. I'd been once before to B&Q Afro Root Cuisine, which is Nigerian, and cuisinally similar (and which is apparently moving shortly): I liked that too, and remember being just as pleasantly flummoxed about the mechanics of everything.