No Famine Here
Let’s be honest, good Ethiopian food sounds almost oxymoronic. So when my Ethiopian friend offered to take me to Dukem on U Street I figured I had to go. More than anything, I just really wanted to see what Ethiopian food is and why a country so inextricably linked with poverty is churning out restaurants in Washington, DC like a Japanese auto manufacturer.
Dukem (pronounced DUK-em) is named after a small city found south of Addis Ababa, Ethiopia's capital. The name "Dukem" is intended to bring nostalgic memories of 'Tire Siga' (fresh red meat) -a delicacy; it should also evoke memories of leisurely weekend travel as most families and friends that travel to the resort areas of Nazareth, Sodere, Langano and Awasa frequent Dukem on the way back to Addis Ababa.
When you first enter Dukem you’re immediately struck by just how many native Ethiopians are dining there. On this particular night, easily 80% of the patrons appeared to be Ethiopian. Could you imagine walking into Thaiphoon or Rice and finding 80% of their clientele to be Thai? I think most people would probably jump back in their mini coopers and drive home.
We were soon greeted by a nice-enough Ethiopian waitress. My friend cut me off as I began to overwhelm the waitress with my litany of questions (curiosity overriding my sense of polite dining etiquette), “Let me speak to her,” my friend said in a polite yet firm tone. After about 30 seconds of unintelligible conversation and giggling, the waitress nodded to my friend, smiling to me as she departed as if to say “relax, you’re in our hands now.”
Apparently my friend had taken the liberty of ordering my meal and my drink. The drink was a light beer from Ethiopia called Harar. It was a lager not unlike that of most American beer (non-descript and easy to drink) but it was cold and had no distinguishable off-flavors so I was happy. The entire selection of alcohol was rather wanting. In fact, I was able to clearly decipher my friend ordering red wine which the server brought without even inquiring as to what varietal she may prefer (even my friend found it laughable) – not the best sign of a quality beverage program.
My entrée was a traditional dish call Tibs. Tibs can be done with any variety of protein, mine was beef. It is basically an inexpensive cut of meat, cubed (although mine appeared more julienne) and sautéed with onion, rosemary, tomato, and jalapeno. It is served with a small salad on an oval plate lined with injera. This injera was the most fascinating part of the meal to me. Injera to Ethiopian food is what naan is to Indian food. It seems to be omni-present, appearing as an edible doily to almost every plate. Injera, like most breads, contains yeast, however it also allows a short period of fermentation giving it an airy, bubbly texture (like a slightly undercooked pancake) and mildly sour taste. Apparently the modus operandi is to tear off a bit of it and use it to pinch portions of the food and then cram it all into your mouth (tradition says when the injera is finished, so is the meal). Now, having grown up in south, flatware has always been optional so this was no problem for me. All in all, the Tibs was a very moderate portion, tough to chew, but rather flavorful.
About midway through my entrée I ordered another beer, only this time I ordered the Harar Stout. This one was disappointing. It had the presence of diacetyl (a common off-flavor with dark beers that make it taste somewhat “buttery”) which some English prefer, but by and large is considered undesirable. Not to mention that for a stout it lacked a pronounced body and chocolate malt characteristics.
My friend was in the midst of her customary fasting ritual that prohibits eating meat of any variety, so she was more than pleased to be at Dukem who offers a plethora of vegetarian options with such restrictions in mind. One thing is for certain, Ethiopian’s love hot food. Almost every dish is either spicy or served with some spicy swill on the side. With unassuming names like “kaey wot” and “mitmita” you could easily find yourself in a world of “Oh shit, what did I just eat?” Stupid American, just ‘cause it ain’t green or red don’t mean that it ain’t hot.
There was really nothing offered in the way of dessert so neither of us indulged. We finished our libations and engaged in a bit of light-hearted conversation. The server never really showed herself from the time our entrees were delivered until we flagged her down for the check some time after we had finished dining. Good staff, just not very attentive.
Overall it was a pleasant experience. Maybe not terribly gratifying in the way that Americans have come to expect (mounds of food and attention), but I think that is what I most appreciated about it. Dukem is standing tall in a city full a fusion restaurants, diluting their authenticity with hopes of attracting (or keeping) American patronage. After all, it is clear that something is working with the endorsement of so many in the Ethiopian community as their number one eatery. I guess you really can’t make everyone happy. Yet for a country that was brutally occupied by Italy for almost ten years (during our grandfather’s time), the least the Italians could have done is engendered their food with bigger portions and better variety. Mama mia.
Posts
