Asmara

739 Massachusetts Ave.

Central Square



If you were to rank the senses involved in restaurant dining, touch would surely wind up at the bottom of the list (although this should in no way appear to deny the legitimacy of the sandwich as a culinary art). After all, restaurant etiquette instructs us to keep our fingers as far away from our food as possible. But for those whose natural instinct is to dig in and get real with your meal, I heartily recommend Asmara.

Opened in 1986, Asmara was Boston’s first Ethiopian and Eritrean restaurant. Although their spices and preparation methods are similar to those used in Indian cuisine—to choose a more familiar reference—no one would confuse the two cuisines. Ethiopian and Eritrean food is eaten with a steamed flatbread called “injera” — and no silverware.

Platters of food are traditionally lined with the bread, which gets its characteristic spongy quality from a day-long fermentation process. The resulting dough is then steamed without any butter or oil to become a squishy pancake with the tang of San Francisco sourdough and a buckwheat-like flavor from a special grain called “maskal teff,” used instead of wheat flour.

I had done a little research before setting out and arrived expecting the finger-food and flatbread, but still I was thrown off by the table-sized basket we were led to. The staff at Asmara had clearly seen my look of confusion before, because the menu explained everything: the injera; the name of the traditional dish of chicken, meat, or peas and lentils in red pepper sauce (“wot”); the name of the table (“mosob”); and the presentation of our food (on a single tray placed inside the basket).

Our server kindly recommended a dish called “sega bebaynetu,” a sampling of chicken, beef, lamb, and vegetarian dishes from the menu. Meanwhile, my companion and I enjoyed glasses of surprisingly fresh mango juice—probably perfect for a summer evening, but still delicious in December.

Our platter arrived with the four dishes, as well as a mesclun salad with tomatoes and fresh cheese, and an extra plate of injera. Anyone who saw us attack this feast would never guess that both of us had already eaten once that evening. Both of us agreed that the beef was our favorite—the spiciest of the four dishes, and cooked with what looked like jalapeno peppers and onions.

After some debate, we settled on the chicken next, in a piquant tomato and red pepper sauce. The lamb was the least unique of the three meat dishes, and therefore finished third. The veggie dish of potatoes, carrots, and green beans in a yellow lentil sauce was mild and unobjectionable, and a valuable counterpoint to their more highly spiced platter-mates. The meal as a whole was more than satisfying, and the experience was well worth the $22.26 apiece.

We chatted with our server after paying, and she told us that all of the restaurant’s five or six employees had come to Boston from Eritrea, which was an Italian colony until 1941 and a part of Ethiopia until 1993. All of the art on the walls was hand-made in Eritrea, and included paintings of city streets, painted wooden bowls and platters, and a goat-skin baby carrier decorated with cowry shells. The authentic decor, the basket tables, and the smell of spice in the air (cardamom, I thought) distinguish Asmara from the other storefronts in Central Square.

Bring a date for an exotic experience, or a group of friends for a memorable night out. Either way, a trip to Asmara is sure to leave your senses happy. Just make sure to wash your hands before you tuck in—you’ll need them.