Saturday morning was suppose to be a fruitful and healthy start to a weekend beginning with a yoga class, followed by attending the free Arabic courses offered at MIT. Instead, due to procrastination and self-realization that I would never be able to commit myself to Saturday classes on any given weekend, I instead took a short stroll with my dog, Baz and friend, Marcie down to Central Square.
We meant to go to the all-organic, all-vegetarian, all-hipster cafe at the corner but the line was much too long and with Hunger throwing a tantrum we decided to walk one block down to the other all-organic, all-conscience-free, all-hipster cafe. But fate, intervened.
Through the clear, slightly smudgy, wide windows of the restaurant called Asmara my eyes were drawn to the chairs and tables made of wicker. I immediately thought, "Indian food sounds like a good idea." We glanced at the menu posted conveniently by the door of the restaurant which is an indication that the restaurant cares about their clients. They want your money, but they don't want to deceive you with how much money they are going to take away from you before you even step in the door.
My thought was proved incorrect, first by my friend then by the waitress. It was not an Indian restaurant, but in fact, a Eritrean/Ethiopian restaurant. Upon this receipt of information my next thought was: Where the hell is Eritrea? followed by: Asmara does sound Ethiopian even though my knowledge of Ethiopian words is limited to one: Awash (a restaurant in the East Village in New York, which btw, according to wikipedia, is the name of a market in Ethiopia).
Moving forward, we chose a seating right next to the big, slightly smudgy windows so we could keep an eye out for Baz who was tied to a tree and regularly petted every minute. The restaurant itself was alright, the decor was minimal and simple, sticking to simple paintings of Ethiopia/Eritrea and simple lighting. The furnishing was more distinguished, utilizing a wicker table and chairs. The sunshine helped give a warm, cozy, perfect-for-brunch ambiance.
I ordered the Alitcha Derho, a boneless chicken marinated in herbs and spices. Marcie orders the Timtimo, yellow split peas in spicy sauce. Typical with Ethiopian dining, the meal was served on an Injera, which I described to a friend as similarly shaped to a tortilla but spongy, then used as a utensil in smaller pieces to scoop up the food. My chicken was a little dry, but to make up for it, the sauce was delicious, a combination of flavors with a strong sour taste. The Timtimo was better, it was mashed up split peas cooked in savory sauces.
Over all, my experience was above average. Enough to bring me back to try other dishes and educate my tongue on African cuisine. But not enough to start telling everything to go there. read more