Wasabimon!

I’d never really thought much about Ethiopian food for the primary reason that every time I’d tried it, I felt like my face would melt off, a la the ending of Raiders of the Lost Ark. I’ve not got a huge tolerance for spice, and in the past, Ethiopian fare pretty much did its best to murder me where I sat. I’d written it off as tasty but lethal, since the prevalent use of a spicy seasoning called berbere was just too much for me. Plus, here in the states, injera (the bread used in place of eating utensils) is made with white flour in addition to the traditional teff flour - a big bummer for those of us with a gluten intolerance.

But, things change. There’s a small Ethiopian restaurant not far from my house called Cafe Colucci, and last year, a couple of friends arranged to meet us there. I was apprehensive but tried to remain optimistic - I really wanted to like this style of cooking because it smelled amazing and honestly, I do love to eat with my hands. Ritu assured us that this place’s food wasn’t prohibitively spicy, but I’ve had her “mild” Indian cooking, so I was still skeptical.

Turns out, dinner was beyond amazing. Cafe Colucci’s menu, while still spicy as hell, had a multitude of offerings that didn’t cause sweat to soak through the collar of my shirt. There was even a gluten-free alternative the injera, little fried potato chips that work wonderfully for scooping up the sauces, so I still got to eat with my hands and not look like an idiot as “the hyper-hygienic white girl with a fork.” Happy Steph.

I’ve been back every week since, and some of these dishes have become near-addictions. I was excited to discover that the little Ethiopian grocery store that’s connected to the restaurant not only sells all the ingredients necessary to make everything the restaurant serves, but also posts their recipes online. Now I can make whatever I want at home, where I can tone the spiciness down a bit.

My favorite dish on the menu is called kik alicha (pronounced keek-aleecha), a thick stew made of yellow split peas, turmeric, and bessobela, or Ethiopian basil. This stuff always puts me in the most euphoric mood. It’s relatively easy to make at home, and the ingredients are available from Brundo, so don’t get caught up in that “it’s foreign, therefore scary to make” mentality.

Kik Alicha

1lbs of yellow split peas
2 yellow onions finely minced
3 tablespoon fresh garlic finely minced
3 tablespoon fresh ginger finely minced
3 tomatoes chopped as finely as you can
1/2 cup olive oil
4 cups of water
1 teaspoon cardamom
1 teaspoon black pepper
2 teaspoons turmeric
Salt to taste

Wash split peas in warm water, drain, and set aside.

In a heavy enamel or cast iron pot, cook onions over medium heat for about 5 minutes or until translucent, adding water as needed. Add tomatoes and garlic, cooking for five minutes, being sure to not let them brown or burn. Add the ginger and continue to cooking for 5 more minutes, adding more water as needed. Do not let the mixture get soupy just yet.

Add olive oil and stir until well blended. Cook briskly, uncovered, for about 5 minutes stirring occasionally, adding more water as needed. Add split peas and cook for 20 minutes stirring frequently and adding hot water as needed (sauce must be thick, not watery). Add turmeric, pepper, and cardamom, or more to taste. Salt to taste. Let cool and serve.

.

A further note on injera:
Traditional injera is made with teff as the only flour in the recipe, and I’ve heard that the reason that American restaurants add wheat flour is because US humidity messes with the fermentation process. Preparing injera from scratch is a bit of a scary undertaking if you’re not comfortable with fermenting your own food, and I’ll warn you - it’s a process that can take a week or more. If you’re curious about someone else’s adventure in injera-land, check out Kittee’s Quest for Injera over at Cake Maker to the Stars. Hers is a favorite blog of mine. <3 <3 <3 Kittee!