While Tisane next door was packed with people who spilled out onto the patio, Abyssinian’s modest yet cozy atmosphere was quiet and inviting in comparison. With warm earthen tones, small woven tapestries and exotic art prints, this hole-in-the-wall has an almost tangible family-run feel that exudes a pride in their craft. The food and service conveyed that same passion.
For each country we’ve tackled so far I researched the cuisine beforehand so as to mentally prepare. This time, however, Adam and I both went to the restaurant completely blind, as just another couple walking in off the street.
Since neither of us really knew what we were looking at as we perused the menu, it was great that our waiter was so helpful in answering all our questions. It was as if he was actually sharing the culture, rather than just increasing his check averages.
Even with the input of our server, neither of us quite knew what to expect from the Yesaga Wot Be-Denish that Adam ordered or the Yebeg Wot that I chose. We were reassured, however, that although Ethiopian food is usually very spicy, Abyssinian’s recipes are toned down to accommodate the milder New England palate.
When our food arrived we were given a brief lesson on how to eat Ethiopian-style.
A large metal tray, topped with a layer of injera and a few dollops of pureed lentils, collard greens and a small salad, was placed on the table between us. A staple of most Ethiopian meals, injera is a spongy, crepe-like bread with a slightly sour flavor.
The yesaga and yebeg wots, beef and lamb stews respectively, were then spooned into small piles on top of the bread. Extra injera came on the side to serve as our “silverware.”
As in many Indian and Middle Eastern cultures, Ethiopians eat with their right hands. The injera is used to scoop up the tender meats, vegetables and savory sauces and it is considered a sign of friendship to feed an injera-wrapped mouthful to another.
The yebeg wot consisted of lamb, onion and green pepper simmered in a traditional berbere sauce. A spice mixture made from chili peppers, ginger, coriander and allspice, berbere is a key ingredient in Ethiopian cooking. The meat was succulent and not too spicy and I licked my fingers after every bite.
Adam also enjoyed his selection, a similarly spiced beef stew with chunks of potato. As we shoveled in mouthfuls he actually used the word, “phenomenal.”
Our bellies filled quickly and we found we had plenty left over for a tasty lunch the next day. We did however make sure we ate the berbere-soaked injera from the platter where our wot had been spooned. It just seemed like it would be the best part.
Once we had finished we were brought moist, scented towels to wipe our hands with.
A delicious meal we both wouldn’t mind revisiting, Abyssinian gets two greasy thumbs up.
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