Eating Ethiopia

>>Mekdella brings flavours
from the Horn of Africa

by GENEVIEVE PAIEMENT

Ethiopia’s cool cred list is long. The birthplace of Rasta messiah Haile Selassie is home to a unique brand of jazz with a cult following the world over (witness Jim Jarmusch’s Broken Flowers soundtrack) and it churns out a freakish amount of gold-medal long-distance runners whose Jedi-style mental toughness is unsurpassed. And then there’s the food.

What is it about those flavour combinations that make it so very enticing? I’ve eaten Ethiopian in Canada, the States and Australia and I must sheepishly confess that it always leads to over-eating—when it’s done right, the stuff simply tastes too good to stop.

The rich, deeply coloured stews, the liberal use of ginger, crushed chili and various other spice combos (often cardamom, cinnamon, cumin, turmeric and paprika) make for satisfying food that’s at once simple and complex. It’s also a pleasure to eat, ripping off pieces of rolled up injera (that sponge-y, crepe-shaped bread) using it to grab each bite and soak up those tantalizing juices.

A friend told me recently that she’d walked past a brand new Ethiopian resto amidst the sports bars, Irish pubs and all-you-can-eat Indian buffets on Bishop, south of Ste-Catherine. It seems the folks behind Monkland Village’s beloved Messob d’Or (RIP), which closed last summer, are behind this new and expanded venture.

Whereas Messob was cozy and had more of a neighbourhood vibe, Mekdella feels cavernous and impersonal. My first impression was that it must have been a sports bar in its former life (it’s actually the former Brass Monkey pub and music venue). A wood-panelled bar dominates the large open space and instead of TSN, the flat screen now flashes Ethiopian music videos. And they’ve done their best to Africanize the décor by adding Ethiopian folk paintings, tourism posters and traditional furniture.

The night we went, a Tuesday, the place was empty except for a mother-daughter duo dining quietly at the back. Two young staff on duty, one waitress and one barmaid, both in traditional Ethiopian casual dress (gauzy, cream-coloured cotton dresses with embroidered trim), looked a little bored.

As we were only two, the best option seemed the combo route. And so it went: the vegetarian combo number one ($12.99) and the meat combo number one ($13.99), both featuring the classic stews we’ve come to crave. They came, as always, in little bowls, accompanied by the big, round tray topped with a sheet of injera and a heap of extra injera rolls. We scooped from each bowl, creating beautiful, earth-toned mounds, tore bits of the bread and dove in.

In the veg department, the misir wat (red lentils stewed in berber sauce) were rich and tasty but could have been spicier, the kik alitcha wat (stewed split peas) tasted a little ashy, while the gomen (Ethiopian-style collard or mustard greens)—one of my all-time faves—was cooked to perfection (not too mushy), and the atkilt wat (potato, carrot, onion, cabbage) was extra silky and saffron-tinged. I was reminded of how very vegetarian-friendly this stuff is.

The meat combo only came with two meats, yedoro wat, Ethiopia’s national dish of chicken stewed in berber sauce with hard-boiled eggs, and menchet abesh wat (gingery, garlicky ground beef) and more atkilt wat. The chicken was fall-off-the-bone tender, as it should be, and the sauce velvety and intense. The finely ground beef, meanwhile, betrayed a hint of cinnamony sweetness. Still, we left satisfied, clutching our bellies and a paper bag containing tomorrow’s lunch.

A return visit for a friend’s birthday the following week proved disappointing. Our servers returned several times to confirm our orders (despite having written them down) and to tell us our choices were unavailable (these included half the wine list and several entrées).

Then, half of our table of eight was served immediately and the other half had to wait another 30 minutes for their meal, no apology or explanation provided. Hopefully Mekdella will pick up its game and the service will rise to the level of the food.