To Get Through This Election, Eat Some Ethiopian Food
Escape the election madness with a shared platter of Ethiopian food and a side of togetherness.
The 2024 election—like every election, really—is a reminder that voters have very few choices when it comes to deciding who will get to set the national agenda for the next several years. It's stifling. For the politically homeless among us, who likely feel a bit suffocated at this juncture, it may be time to seek out a more diverse palette—in the form of Ethiopian food.
Palette is the operative word, because an Ethiopian spread is truly the start of a work of art. Served on a spongy pancake called injera, the meal often consists of an array of vegetarian dishes—Chickpea stew! Potatoes! Split peas! Collard greens!—meted out in happy little circles, with a glob of meat as the centerpiece (if you eat meat). Bob Ross, but make it edible.
Each dish brings its own unique spice profile, with the warmth of berbere seasoning and the earthy depth of turmeric creating a flavor experience that's as diverse as it is satisfying. The colors and textures stimulate not just the taste buds but the senses as a whole.
Utensils? Who needs them? Additional helpings of injera, provided as a side, are the vehicle here, used to scoop up combinations of the many choices before you. The possibilities are endless.
How many Ethiopian restaurants your area has largely depends on immigration trends over the last several decades. Luckily Washington, D.C.—where residents might need the most help escaping the political chaos center stage there—boasts the highest concentration of Ethiopian people outside of Africa. Walking through neighborhoods like Adams Morgan, Shaw, and Columbia Heights, you'll pass multiple restaurants dedicated to this often-overlooked cuisine. Other large enclaves exist in California, Minnesota, Texas, Colorado, Washington state, Georgia, Virginia, and Maryland, although you'll find some Ethiopians in every state across the continental U.S.
Many Ethiopian immigrants over the years have come to the U.S. in response to political unrest and armed conflict in their home country; the area has seen constant turmoil, displacing peaceful civilians. The Immigration Act of 1990, signed into law by former President George H. W. Bush, has facilitated some of that movement with its Temporary Protected Status program, which gives a lifeline to people in countries experiencing upheaval. Also of note is that half of Ethiopian immigrants are citizens. Since the majority arrived relatively recently, that trend suggests this cohort is generally eager to become Americans when they're able to.
We're luckier for it. Gathering around a shared platter of Ethiopian food, there's little room for the divisive political chatter that fills the airwaves. Instead, friends and family enjoy vibrant dishes in a communal experience that celebrates togetherness. Pride also has no place here, as the finger-food approach gets messy quickly. In other words, it's a fourth date, not a first date, excursion.
More importantly, it's also a reminder that the U.S., for all its faults, is enriched by the cultures and people who have brought their traditions here—creating moments like this, where the only debate might be who gets the last piece of injera.
As the doomsday 24-hour news cycle labors on, constantly reminding us of our binary, black-and-white options, there is a Technicolor escape in the form of Ethiopian cuisine. Freedom tastes good.
