Source: nola, February 18, 2011
On a quiet morning inside the kitchen of Café Abyssinia on Magazine Street, Ermias Alemu watched his mother, Asselefech Wako, spoon berbere spice into a pot of onions, garlic and ginger to prepare the traditional Ethiopian dish of Doro Wat.
"If you are not cooking with berbere, you are not making Doro Wat, " Wako said as she sautéed the bright red, curry-style mixture of spices such as red chiles, cumin and coriander, until it reached a jamlike consistency.
"She is cooking like home. Some people when they open the restaurant, they are cooking for business. She is not like that, " said Alemu, dressed in dark jeans and a white tank top.
Wako recently arrived from Chicago with her husband to help their son open the only Ethiopian restaurant in New Orleans.
"My son's idea, not me. I like Chicago, " she said with a good-natured smile. "I want to help him, not show him. He knows everything, better than me."
Dark brown-striped curtains separate Café Abyssinia's small, sun-filled kitchen from the dining room, where handpainted murals of Ethiopian landmarks such as churches, monuments and rivers decorate the wall. Seven tables are covered in white tablecloths and, on this day, a Lakers game plays on a television in the far back corner.
"I want to represent my culture and food, you know, because I love it, " said Alemu, who moved from Ethiopia to Chicago six years ago. He came to New Orleans after Hurricane Katrina to work for a construction company, and eventually worked as a hotel valet, and, later, as a cabdriver.
"There is no Ethiopian restaurant here. When I was driving the cab, a lot of my customers asked me, 'Why don't you open a restaurant here?' I told my mother, and she said 'Go for it.' "
Those trying Ethiopian food for the first time may enjoy the vegetarian and meat combination plates, which offer a taste of multiple entrées. Order them and what arrives looks like a cocktail tray lined with the thin, traditional injera, a spongy sourdough flat bread prepared similarly to a crepe.
The injera is topped with generous spoonfuls of popular dishes, such as Doro Wat, leg of chicken cooked in a spicy homemade sauce and served with hard-boiled egg; Yebey Tibs, cubed lamb marinated in garlic and rosemary and sautéed with onions and green peppers; and Yemsir Wat, red lentils simmered with onion in a spicy homemade sauce.
Meals come with a side of injera, which traditionally stands in for eating utensils. Diners tear off pieces of injera and use it to scoop up the food and eat.
"All I cook, you eat with your hand, " Wako said.
The Ethiopian cook's trinity is onion, garlic and ginger. Many of the aromatic dishes would be considered moderately spicy by New Orleans standards. Many of Café Abyssinia's ingredients, including the chiles, curries and berbere, have been shipped to the restaurateurs by family members in Ethiopia.
The chefs, however, make some modifications for American patrons, just as other immigrant restaurant owners have done for generations. For example, the owners of Café Abyssinia cook with vegetable oil rather than their traditional clarified butter to accommodate cholesterol-conscious Americans.
The narrative of the Alemu family is similar to that of immigrants throughout New Orleans history says Liz Williams, president of the Southern Food and Beverage Museum.
"We have had all this food that has been brought here because people want to eat what is familiar, because eating what's familiar is also part of your identity, " Williams said of ethnic restaurants, which often spring up where enclaves of immigrants settle.
Historically, for immigrants, the "food businesses are pretty much the easiest thing to start whether you do it because you are selling from a cart and you don't need a big capital investment, or you are starting at a restaurant where language is not a problem, " Williams said.
She believes, however, that unlike other American cities, in New Orleans, ethnic cuisines whether French or Vietnamese often are absorbed into the New Orleans culinary landscape.
"It becomes a two-way exchange, " Williams said. "People import not only the foodstuffs but the techniques and food-preparation methods that they are familiar with, and it all starts to meld together."
For the Crescent City, however, Ethiopian food remains exotic due to its scarcity. A handful of Ethiopian or East African restaurants have opened and closed in the city in the past decade, but, if Alemu has his way, the flavors will become more prevalent in the Crescent City.
Alemu's grandfather ran a restaurant in Ethiopia, but this is the family's first foray into food ventures in the United States.
"I am trying to learn, but I am doing good, " Alemu said, noting that among other things, he said he is getting used to the rush.
"Sometimes on Fridays and Saturdays for lunch and dinner, we sell like 200 injera and we are out of food by 7 or 8 o'clock, " Alemu said. "The next day, we got to be here like 8 a.m., and we got to cook all the food at the same time, it's not easy."
And, despite the learning curve of launching a food business, Alemu hopes to open another restaurant downtown, possibly near Frenchmen Street.
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| John McCusker/The Times-PicayuneEmia Alemu serves traditional Ethiopian cuisine at Cafe Abyssinia. |
"If you are not cooking with berbere, you are not making Doro Wat, " Wako said as she sautéed the bright red, curry-style mixture of spices such as red chiles, cumin and coriander, until it reached a jamlike consistency.
"This is the dish you make in my country when guests come, and for holy days, " said Wako, a petite woman dressed in a long, black T-shirt, dark grey sweatpants and gold earrings.
Café Abyssinia, which opened in November, serves traditional Ethiopian cuisine, characterized by spicy meat and vegetable dishes that are transformed into sautéed meat, or "tibs, " and stews, or "wats."
"I am a chef, but I cannot cook like her, " Alemu said. "She is the best.
Wako recently arrived from Chicago with her husband to help their son open the only Ethiopian restaurant in New Orleans.
"My son's idea, not me. I like Chicago, " she said with a good-natured smile. "I want to help him, not show him. He knows everything, better than me."
Dark brown-striped curtains separate Café Abyssinia's small, sun-filled kitchen from the dining room, where handpainted murals of Ethiopian landmarks such as churches, monuments and rivers decorate the wall. Seven tables are covered in white tablecloths and, on this day, a Lakers game plays on a television in the far back corner.
"I want to represent my culture and food, you know, because I love it, " said Alemu, who moved from Ethiopia to Chicago six years ago. He came to New Orleans after Hurricane Katrina to work for a construction company, and eventually worked as a hotel valet, and, later, as a cabdriver.
"There is no Ethiopian restaurant here. When I was driving the cab, a lot of my customers asked me, 'Why don't you open a restaurant here?' I told my mother, and she said 'Go for it.' "
Those trying Ethiopian food for the first time may enjoy the vegetarian and meat combination plates, which offer a taste of multiple entrées. Order them and what arrives looks like a cocktail tray lined with the thin, traditional injera, a spongy sourdough flat bread prepared similarly to a crepe.
The injera is topped with generous spoonfuls of popular dishes, such as Doro Wat, leg of chicken cooked in a spicy homemade sauce and served with hard-boiled egg; Yebey Tibs, cubed lamb marinated in garlic and rosemary and sautéed with onions and green peppers; and Yemsir Wat, red lentils simmered with onion in a spicy homemade sauce.
Meals come with a side of injera, which traditionally stands in for eating utensils. Diners tear off pieces of injera and use it to scoop up the food and eat.
"All I cook, you eat with your hand, " Wako said.
The Ethiopian cook's trinity is onion, garlic and ginger. Many of the aromatic dishes would be considered moderately spicy by New Orleans standards. Many of Café Abyssinia's ingredients, including the chiles, curries and berbere, have been shipped to the restaurateurs by family members in Ethiopia.
The chefs, however, make some modifications for American patrons, just as other immigrant restaurant owners have done for generations. For example, the owners of Café Abyssinia cook with vegetable oil rather than their traditional clarified butter to accommodate cholesterol-conscious Americans.
The narrative of the Alemu family is similar to that of immigrants throughout New Orleans history says Liz Williams, president of the Southern Food and Beverage Museum.
"We have had all this food that has been brought here because people want to eat what is familiar, because eating what's familiar is also part of your identity, " Williams said of ethnic restaurants, which often spring up where enclaves of immigrants settle.
Historically, for immigrants, the "food businesses are pretty much the easiest thing to start whether you do it because you are selling from a cart and you don't need a big capital investment, or you are starting at a restaurant where language is not a problem, " Williams said.
She believes, however, that unlike other American cities, in New Orleans, ethnic cuisines whether French or Vietnamese often are absorbed into the New Orleans culinary landscape.
"It becomes a two-way exchange, " Williams said. "People import not only the foodstuffs but the techniques and food-preparation methods that they are familiar with, and it all starts to meld together."
For the Crescent City, however, Ethiopian food remains exotic due to its scarcity. A handful of Ethiopian or East African restaurants have opened and closed in the city in the past decade, but, if Alemu has his way, the flavors will become more prevalent in the Crescent City.
Alemu's grandfather ran a restaurant in Ethiopia, but this is the family's first foray into food ventures in the United States.
"I am trying to learn, but I am doing good, " Alemu said, noting that among other things, he said he is getting used to the rush.
"Sometimes on Fridays and Saturdays for lunch and dinner, we sell like 200 injera and we are out of food by 7 or 8 o'clock, " Alemu said. "The next day, we got to be here like 8 a.m., and we got to cook all the food at the same time, it's not easy."
And, despite the learning curve of launching a food business, Alemu hopes to open another restaurant downtown, possibly near Frenchmen Street.
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