After a brisk 15 minute walk from Canal Street in Chinatown, where I had visited my "favorite store," I was exhausted, thirsty, and my stomach was crying out for nourishment. Luckily, I was outside Awash, ready for my dinner rendezvous with my monthly dinner group from Stony Brook. I went inside, and the rest of the group arrived within 10 minutes of our agreed upon time. After sharing tales of our Sunday pre-dinner adventures, we settled down to the business of looking at unfamiliar Amharic dish names and their English descriptions. I had never had Ethiopian food before, but my palate was up for a new culinary challenge, and three friends over the previous week had recommended trying Awash out. Not being able to eat the meat dishes due to dietary restrictions (halal), I busied myself with the vegetarian section, and between sips of water, tried to decide on a single dish. I settled on the vegetarian combination platter, but came the tricky business of picking 5 of the 7 items in the relevant section. A waitress came around, and five of us ordered the meat combination or meat/veggie combination platter, while a couple picked the veggie combination platter for 2. The waitress, in authentic Ethiopian dress, asked for my five choices:
"What two don't you want?"
"Ummm....gomen (collard green with onions, garlic, and green peppers) and....yatakilt alicha (cabbage, carrot, potatoes sauteed in peppers, onions, and garlic)."
After complimenting my passable Ethiopian accent, my friends asked why I didn't go for the gomen.
"Oh, I'm not a big fan of collard greens. I don't like anything that tastes green (chuckle)."
We then got a couple plateloads of hot, steaming towels. My quizzical look turned to horror and then to anticipation when I realized we would be eating with our hands, my favorite mode of eating as a child. The only disturbing thing was that the towels smelled of bleach...which I hoped wouldn't disrupt our gastronomical endeavor.
Whiling away the time and whetting our appetites, we did small talk about lab shenanigans, upcoming plans, and travel arrangements. The latter made for interesting conversation. A couple in our group is planning a big move to the West Coast to write a new chapter in their lives, but the transition involves two week of cross-country driving. They're adventurous when it comes to food, though they prefer staying with the names they recognize. While discussing mapping out Chinese and Korean restaurants along the way, the conversation took a wild twist...and I mean wild. One of us brought up the story of a grizzly bear chasing humans, then Chinese and Korean food (i.e the couple chasing each other if they can't find food along the way), and then Kansas barbeque. Finally, the conversation took a life of its own when I mentioned Roadkill Cafe (it really exists!). Before we could indulge in dreaming about eating turtles, deer, snakes, and desert foxes, our food arrived.
The plates were big, with 5 heaps of vegetables on a large serving of injera, a pancake-like bread, and centered with dressed salad. I picked the red heap to attack first. Turns out it was yemesir kik wat, split red lentils in berbere sauce. Pretty good I must say! Recognizing the folly of folding over the edge of the injera, I unrolled one of the extra ones we got and dug away at the yemesir. Next up was a yellow heap called yater kikalicha, split peas, almost as good as the yemesir, though I still gravitated towards the soothing taste of the former. I scooted along to the shiro, crowned chick peas, and gobbled them up. Now I was really motoring along, with the gentle spices of all the dishes warming up my esophagus and stomach. I bounced around the injera plain, and climbed the mountain of string beans and carrots. But this really slowed me down...I was starting to fill up. And then something stung my tongue and I instinctively reached for the water and took a big gulp. Turns out I had swallowed bits of green chilis, not my favorite food. Not wanting to get an upset stomach, I decided to pass on key sir alicha, beets, carrots, and potatoes, though it was tempting. By this time, my diners-in-arms were done or almost done with their generous portions and were showing looks of satisfaction on their visages. We quickly paid the bill, a very reasonable $17 per person, including gratuity, and headed out for dessert.
Red Mango was our destination, and I opted for the novel Tangomonium frozen yogurt, without toppings, much to the consternation of one of my fellow diners. "I like to try unadulterated flavors," I said in my defense. It had a light citrus flavor, both slightly tangy and slightly sweet, a perfect antidote to the green chilis I had accidentally consumed. Concluding a wonderful night of Ethiopian dinner and frozen yogurt dessert, we bid our adieus and headed our separate ways. I headed down to Chinatown and hitched a ride back to Long Island.
P.S. I enjoyed both the places I went to. Be sure to check them out at http://www.awashnyc.com/ and http://www.redmangousa.com/default.html
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