bostonherald.com, April 11, 2011
I recently stopped in for dinner at Addis Red Sea on Tremont Street in the South End, the oldest Ethiopian restaurant in the city. It’s an underground warren of cozy caves decked out in thick carpeting, colorful wall hangings and display cases of Ethiopian crafts.
Dinner here is a communal affair–you sit on low stools around a small, hand-woven, basket table called a mesob and share dishes served on a circular enameled platter lined with injera, a spongy, sourdough crepe that resembles a giant pancake.
We had kitfo (Ethiopian steak tartare), chicken stew, tomato and chili pepper salad, mashed lemony chickpeas and assorted stewed legumes and greens.
You break off the injera with your fingers and use it as an edible scoop.
Do as Ethiopian patrons do and request only brown-colored tef injera—it’s yeasty and delicious; and ask for berbere, it’s a spicy hot pepper paste used both as flavoring and as a condiment
I recently stopped in for dinner at Addis Red Sea on Tremont Street in the South End, the oldest Ethiopian restaurant in the city. It’s an underground warren of cozy caves decked out in thick carpeting, colorful wall hangings and display cases of Ethiopian crafts.
Dinner here is a communal affair–you sit on low stools around a small, hand-woven, basket table called a mesob and share dishes served on a circular enameled platter lined with injera, a spongy, sourdough crepe that resembles a giant pancake.
We had kitfo (Ethiopian steak tartare), chicken stew, tomato and chili pepper salad, mashed lemony chickpeas and assorted stewed legumes and greens.
You break off the injera with your fingers and use it as an edible scoop.
Do as Ethiopian patrons do and request only brown-colored tef injera—it’s yeasty and delicious; and ask for berbere, it’s a spicy hot pepper paste used both as flavoring and as a condiment
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