Little Ethiopia

After I graduated from college (LMU ’92) - I set out on an adventure with the good people of the Jesuit Volunteer Corps. I wound up in Washington DC, just before Clinton was elected to his first term. With a fresh degree I made myself a home in one of the world’s most exciting cities. But living and working among the poor - exposed us to a world that we hadn’t experienced before; a huge new place in a relatively small city. Part of the beauty of DC is the rich, multi-cultured vibe of it. And the transient nature of the town: very few people are actually from there. Most of us were transplants, giving us all that commonality and communal feeling. This and the huge presence of volunteers and underpaid college grads working for either the various non-profits or on the Hill - it was a great place to spend early adult years.

DC is where I met my husband. Happily, he was just as adventurous as I when it came to food. While dating, we would spend a large percentage of our meager stipends to try new foods and restaurants. Our main destination was Adams Morgan, and one of our favorites was Ethiopian food. 

Fast forward 20 years. After researching this idea of eating our way across Los Angeles, a quick search led me to find “Little Ethiopia” on a LA neighborhood map. And off we went to start our food adventure. After a side detour in Van Nuys to pick up certified copies of Ed’s birth certificate [the previous copies having been “misplaced” after soccer registration by one of his parents…] we made our way to Little Ethiopia, south of the Farmer‘s Market on Fairfax. Finding street parking on the few block stretch of restaurants and shops was fairly easy. Yelp provided a good choice in Messob. At 12:00 noon, our party of 5 was the first to arrive for the lunch crowd. The place was empty and we had our pick of tables. The server was lovely to us, offering suggestions and getting us ordered. She picked the meal off the menu that served 3 - and the 5 of us (even with Colin and Aidan’s stomach capacity) couldn’t finish it all.

One of the joys of Ethiopian cuisine is how you get to eat the food. Utensils are not used, much to the delight of most of my children. In place of forks, a spongy bread, Injera, is torn in pieces and used to grab bites from the common platter. Perhaps because with every bite of stew, meat and vegetable you must consume amounts of bread is why the meal is so filling. Injera is made from the gluten free grain teff and resembles something between a crepe and a pancake.

About ¾ way through our meal, another group came into the restaurant and sat at the table next to us. One of the three lovely women was from Ethiopia, which we learned when I leaned over and started a conversation after watching them drink their tea correctly (I noticed this after I had prepared mine incorrectly…) She, too, had lived for some time in Washington DC - and for this we instantly had a connection. Living off of 16th St. can do that to people… We had an informal tutorial about the richness of her culture and home country -from the Aksum Empire to the present - as well as a quick lesson on Jamaica and Rastafarianism - due to last emperor of Ethiopia, Haile Selassie aka Ras Tafari. And now we know who the guy in the funny looking hat in the portraits on the walls was.

They encouraged us to try dessert, which was delicious baklava. By the time our meal was finished, the restaurant was filling up. The owner had come out to greet the table next to ours, and our new friend introduced us to him. We thanked him for our meal and he was happy that we enjoyed it.

After lunch we walked up and down the block, checking out the thrift stores and a few of the small markets. Thrift store shopping with Edwin and Colin was not the most stress free, so we moved on quickly. I was able to purchase some Ethiopian powdered ginger from the small mini mart type place. I thought it was a good souvenir- something to take back home to cook with and remember our day.