Food

Thomas was someone I met on the street — an Ethiopian man who was so kind, I was certain he had an ulterior motive.

But if there was a sinister side to Thomas, it never emerged. Instead, he was just incredibly nice to my friends and me. He showed us around town. He took us to a famous restaurant for authentic Ethiopian food. He helped us navigate the minibus system throughout town. He negotiated a price for our bus tickets down south. And in a whopping show of hospitality, he invited us back to his cousin’s house for the coffee ceremony.

After all, Ethiopia is the place where coffee was born, and this is the place that does it best.

The coffee ceremony takes place every afternoon in just about every home, restaurant and cafe in the country. This is the main social event of the day.

First, long wisps of fragrant grass are spread across the floor. Hot coals are fanned with a piece of cardboard. A round metal pan is placed on top of the coals, and fresh coffee beans sizzle and pop as they roast.

When the beans are ebony black and shiny with aromatic oils, they are ground into a fine powder using a mortar and pestle.

Meanwhile, a kettle of water has come to a rolling boil over a squatty pot of coals. The grounds are combined with the hot water inside a black, clay pot, where the brew soaks and steeps for several minutes. When the coffee is complete, it is poured into espresso-sized china cups.

After the first round, the pot with the coffee grounds is refilled with more hot water. After the grounds steep for several more minutes, a second round of coffee is passed around.

Then there is a third round, completing the ceremony.

Really, it’s just about as far from instant coffee as you can get.

In contrast, my typical coffee ceremony involves me sleepy-eyedand grumpy, spilling grounds all over the kitchen counter and shouting “@#$%!!” when the Mr. Coffee drip machine takes too damn long.

I prefer it the Ethiopian way. It’s a slow process, but it is satisfying. As the coffee is prepared, there is time for conversation. The coffee is shared and enjoyed. The taste is richer, evoking chocolate and caramel.

It is coffee the way it was meant to be savored. It is a ceremony.

Beyond the coffee ceremony, the regular Ethiopian brews and the soy macchiatos (yes, soy!) are reason enough to visit this country. Check out this gorgeous coffee.

Juice. And lots of it.

It is, by far, my favorite thing about this country. For around $1-2, you can get a vitamin-packed glass of freshly squeezed and blended juice.

I particularly enjoyed this lime-mint drink, which would totally beat lemonade in a cage match.

Ethiopia is also famous for these layered fruit juices. Here I’m having a superhero combination of mango, strawberry, papaya and avocado.

Sounds weird, but the combo is fantastic, especially on a hot afternoon in the brutal Ethiopian sun.

Whenever I tell people back home that my favorite cuisine is Ethiopian, I’m met with laughter and jeers.

“What do they serve at Ethiopian restaurants? One grain of rice?”

Har har.

But now I’m getting the last laugh, eating my way around Ethiopia and indulging in this country’s incredibly lush, layered cuisine.

For the uninitiated, here’s what Ethiopian food is all about.

Most dishes revolve around sauces served on injera.

Injera is a bread made from teff flour, not wheat, so it’s naturally gluten-free and doesn’t rest heavy on the stomach. The dough is fermented, giving it a tangy taste and spongy texture similar to sourdough. It looks like a limp pancake.

The best thing about Ethiopian food is that you eat with your hands, tearing pieces of injera and using them to sop up the juicy sauces. Since you’re experiencing the food without utensils, the meals engage every sense — right down to the steamy sauna of sauce on your fingertips.

The most common sauce, called wot, is like a thick, yummy stew made with either meat or beans. It is seasoned with berbere, a potent blend of chili pepper, black pepper, ginger, garlic and other spices. (Supposedly the way to an Ethiopian man’s heart is through spice — it is said that the woman with the best berbere nabs the best husband!)

A less zesty version of wot is called alecha. It contains no berbere, but it is equally delicious.

During Lent and on fasting days — that is, every Wednesday and Friday — orthodox Ethiopians eschew animal products, which means vegans rule, baby! That’s when I happily order my favorite meal, beyanetu, a hearty sampler of wot, alecha, salads and more.

Many dishes are served on a shared plate, using a piece of injera that is approximately the size of a bistro tablecloth.

If you’re dining with loved ones, you might also experience gursha, a beautiful act of friendship. That’s when your buddy tears a strip of injera, sponges up some sauce, then places the bundle of food into your mouth. The larger the roll of injera, the stronger your friendship.

Altogether, Ethiopian cuisine is unbearably beautiful in its richness of flavor, the eye-popping spice, and even the act of nourishing one another. I feel like I’m getting to know this country one bite of injera at a time.

It’s a far cry from one grain of rice, huh?

Of course, the food varies by region, based on tradition, season and availability. While I was visiting a tribe near Konso, they were serving up beans and kurkofa, balls of maize and sorghum dough, boiled and served with moringa (cabbage tree) leaves.