After last time’s experimental attempt at Egyptian food, you’d think I was done with playing Russian Roulette at ethnic restaurants for at least a week. But when I spotted Zagol in Karama, I HAD to walk in.
Zagol had that authentic ethnic appeal that violently tugged at strings criss-crossing the massive cavernous pit of my tummy…hidden little place in Karama, traditional Ethiopian mesobs and stools, a menu with Ethiopian culinary lingo that whizzed past my head…and, Ninu, one of my super awesome readers [yes you lady, you right there, I’m pointing right at ya] had recommended it to me eons of blog posts ago.
The only difference between playing Russian Roulette at most other restaurants with foreign sounding dishes, versus over here at Zagol, was that at Zagol, it was like playing the sadistic game with a fully loaded cylinder. All six bullets, quivering with anticipation for me to take the first bite. I’ve never been wild about Ethiopian food. Not when I tried it in Philadelphia for the first time, nor the second time, nor even the blithering third time. And definitely not when I attempted to order takeout from an Ethiopian place buried somewhere on Naif Road in Deira. What was I thinking…let alone unappetizing, my aluminium wrapped Ethiopian takeout actually seemed somewhat lethal.
Still, I wanted to give Zagol a chance. There’s always that tenth time that can totally change your opinion about something – and I’m ready for my tummy to take the hit those nine times prior.
This clearly was not that life-changing tenth time.
It wasn’t all that bad. Zagol’s standard Ethiopian meal was actually a notch more flavourful and liberally salted (= a good thing in my books) and spicier than the meals I’ve attempted before, but I’d be lying if I were to say that I’d be craving this meal anytime soon. Or anytime in the distant future.
Or anytime ever.
I’m sure there are People out there who heartily appreciate the grey-brown spongy Ethiopian injera bread, landscaped with little mounds of salted cabbage, spinach (or leek?) and chicken, curried chicken, curried beef, raw beef, salad, egg curry, steamed carrots and potatoes, a central dollop of fresh homemade Iab (a close relative of cottage cheese)*…but aforementioned appreciative People were absent at my dinner table that day. The curries just didn’t work together in ways that would make me stealthily tug the injera away from my dining companions so that I could scoop up more than my fair share. On the contrary, I tried to sneakily lure them into tasting this, or that, or hey, this one’s actually pretty decent, go on, I know you’ll love it! [Muahahahahahha. Ha. HA.]
(PS – It’s no coincidence that I’ve given little to no info on the actual names and prep styles of the Ethiopian dishes on the menu…that’s because I don’t speak Ethiopian [yay to the obvious!], and because I’d have driven the server wild had I forced her to repeat the translation of every dish so I could scrawl it down. In desperate times like these, you’ve gotta thank the cyber gods for Wikipedia links — a lazy blogger’s friendly alternative to writing a well-researched article. Tibs and wat stews and kitfo and all the other stuff you were clamouring to learn about? They’re all up here on trusty Wikipedia.)
My dinner buds attempted a few bites of the veggies. There were even a few precious moments when they actually proclaimed that the carrots and potatoes and cabbage were worthy of a few additional nibbles. And then they heartlessly abandoned me. I was left all alone to polish off the rest of the Ethiopian platter under the watchful gaze of the super sweet server, who’d gone out of her way to explain the entire menu to me. She was closing in on me with that dreaded question: How’s the food?
I really should have responded with a dramatic get me a comment card woman, so I can lay bare my true emotions…confidentially…or a less dramatic mmmphhffhhhmmmff – the diplomatic stuffed mouth mutter, that to the unsuspecting, could actually be interpreted as a moan of yumminess. I really should have. But instead, I plastered a fake smile on my face and lied to the server, I lied like a coward who couldn’t confront the server’s sweet homely face, I lied like an obedient niece complimenting her aunt on the granite block of cake that she’d baked just for me, I lied from the bottom of my cratered injera clogged tummy. It’s great, really good, thank you!
Com’on, cut me some slack. It’s not like they’d have revamped the menu if I’d given negative feedback.
So here you go Ninu, this one’s for you. I had a glimmer of hope when you mentioned the place to me…and pulled the trigger on myself despite having been hopelessly hit during my previous Ethiopian attempts.
On a stupidly optimistic note, I get this feeling in my bones that one of you out there has had this earth-shatteringly fantabulous experience with Ethiopian food. I just know one of you have. For the love of God, tell me where I can find Ethiopian food that’ll hit the spot. Just point the way and make me love Ethiopian food for times to come. Save me the bullet, won’t ya?
Drive to the Pizza Hut opposite Bur Juman, take 3 rights and 1 left. Drive down the road, Zagol would be to your left.
Phone: +971 (4) 357-7740