Thursday, May 20th, 2010

by Meskerem Zikru

Home may seem like a simple and straightforward word, but actually it can be quite a complicated concept. Those of us who have had to leave the land of their birth either willingly or forcibly to find safety or economic upward mobility can attest that “home” is a word that is difficult to define. Often much more than a place of residence and entangled in recollections of youthful exploits, intimate relationships, and heartfelt memories, this word invokes powerful emotions. We distant wanderers try to recreate this sense of “home” by gravitating towards each other and building new communities in far-away lands. We search for the lilts and tones of our mother tongues in the voices of strangers and the tastes and smells that titillated our palates and stimulated our senses in the land we left behind. Like dessert nomads in search of water, we travel to oases like Washington DC and LA’s Little Ethiopia where our countrymen have congregated for a momentary taste of home.

Twelve years, an ocean, and five residences removed from my childhood home of Addis Ababa, home for me is embodied in fleeting moments of familiar tizita songs, the smell of roasting coffee beans as they rattle back and forth in an aluminum pan over an open flame, the feeling of injera against my fingers as I wrap it around artfully seasoned cubes of tibs or wott and the taste of slow cooked and perfectly spiced kibe and berbere as it melts in my mouth. These moments temporarily remove the ever-present feeling of “outsider” in this unfamiliar land and instantly bring me back to the days of my childhood and a sense of comfort and contentment.

I will admit that as a self-proclaimed “foodie,” I am particularly drawn to culinary portals that connect me to the land of my youth. However, I believe there is a much more universal link between food and home. After all, how else do we explain the concept of “comfort food?” The DMV area alone boasted a whopping sixty-seven Ethiopian restaurants at last count. Thus, it stands to reason that, like me, many of my fellow Ethiopians and Eritreans are searching for a little taste of home around a shared communal plate of injera as they punctuate tales of a bygone era with offered gurshas and sympathetic nods.

Considering the large Ethiopian/Eritrean population in the DC area, it is not surprising that the quality of Ethiopian cuisine is quite superior. Many of the long-standing establishments have built loyal clientele and reputations for excellence in preparing particular dishes. As a former resident in the area, I often depend on my own experiences or the suggestions of my local friends whenever I am in town and craving a particular delicacy to decide where to dine. On a recent visit to the area however, I stumbled upon an unfamiliar restaurant as I was riding through a popular hub of Ethiopian establishments in Virginia.

Bearing the name of a popular old hang out in my hometown of Addis, a restaurant called Kebericho drew my attention with its pictures of kurt and kitfo in the window. While I was not particularly in the mood for either of these dishes at the time, I walked in to inquire about the other items on their menu. As the pleasant waitress rattled off the relatively few items available, one particular dish sparked my interest and I sat down to order. Unlike kitfo, tibs, or even kurt,  quanta firfir is not found in many restaurants and I discovered many years ago that the few places that do serve it rarely do it justice. In fact, I had stopped ordering quanta firfir a couple of years back after being disappointed so often. Yet something inspired me to abandon my boycott and sample this childhood favorite of mine that day.  As I carefully removed the round sheet of injera covering the steaming plate of firfir, a mouthwatering aroma of spices greeted my nose. Then, as I took my first bite of the crisp quanta and the wonderful combination of kibe, berebere and bits of injera a smile tugged at the corners of my mouth. It tasted just like mama used to make and for a few minutes in Falls Church, Virginia on an otherwise uneventful Thursday afternoon…I was home again.

This blog submission was written by Meskerem Zekru  The views of guest bloggers are not the views of Ethiopian-Americans for Change.  Guest bloggers represent the broad dissection of views and outlooks within our community.

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