After six hours of trying to make sense of U.S. Census data, I was confused and close to tears. I was also hungry—a deadly combination. There is a reason, I reminded myself, that I am a food writer and not a statistician. It was clearly time to stop, step away from the computer, and eat some Ethiopian food.
It had all started with what I thought was a relatively simple question: What is the fastest growing immigrant group in Seattle? I wanted to find out. And then I wanted to eat their food. So I called Diana Canzoneri, Seattle’s city demographer, hoping she could shed some light on the issue.
Kifto tere photo by quinn.anya on Flickr.
“Oh,” said Canzoneri, in a tone I now recognize as foreboding. “I’m not sure that you’ll be able to find the answer to your question.” Canzoneri directed me to the U.S. Census. “Those numbers should get you closer to what you are looking for.”
Six hours, countless websites, and nineteen PDF and Excel spreadsheet downloads later, I was exactly where Canzoneri had predicted: closer, but still very far from an answer. I had discovered that the number of African immigrants in Washington State had swelled an astonishing 800 percent between 1990 and 2008, and that most of these immigrants had come from East African countries such as Somalia, Ethiopia, and Eritrea. But I couldn’t figure out was how many people were coming from each country, or find any proof that they were settling in Seattle.
Located in the Horn of Africa, the easternmost tip of the continent, these countries had been vital spots in the Middle East and South Asian spice trade in ancient times, which is why East African food is shot through with heady, complex mixtures of flavors and spice. Even the simplest dish, and the most common seasoning—berbere—include dozens of spices. And because Eritrea and Somalia were once colonized by Italy, pasta is an improbable staple in both cuisines.
It all made some sense—even the most casual observer couldn’t help but notice that the number of Ethiopian restaurants lining Cherry Street in the Central District had grown over the years. But the demographer was right: the answer I was looking for simply didn’t exist on paper.
So that evening, instead of worrying, I decided to focus on what was in front of me: an enormous veggie combo and pile of kitfo from Ras Dashen (2801 E Cherry, 709-7626), which serves up some of the most unabashedly and boldly spiced food I’ve ever eaten. The kitchen here isn’t the least bit shy about using—and refraining from using, when appropriate—an array of spices, creating such clear, distinct dishes that it felt like, even after many Ethiopian meals, I was experiencing the cuisine for the first time.
On our injera-lined tray lay a pile of cinnamony red lentils, contrasted with yellow lentils that had been left pretty much alone to their own earthy sweetness. Then there was stewed okra—oily, rich, and satiny. Also on the plate: finely chopped, almost astringent, collard greens that expertly countered all the spices, yellow curry-tinted cabbage with still-firm carrots, and a delightfully vinegary salad of torn injera, tomatoes, raw onion, garlic, and jalapenos.
And then there was the kitfo. A pile of soft, unctuous raw beef warmed by niter kebbeh, a potent spiced butter that makes your eyes widen and every tastebud stand at attention—gingery one moment, earthy the next, unceasingly fiery.
The day after my meal at Ras Dashen, the scent of berbere still lingering on my fingertips and still determined to find an answer, I dialed up Tom Medina, State Refugee Coordinator at the Office of Refugee & Immigrant Assistance in Olympia, figuring that many East African immigrants are seeking refuge from political instability and violence in their home countries.
“I don’t know that I’m going to be able to help you,” Medina said, almost apologetically. “There’s just not a lot of data out there on race and immigration. Though I can tell you that roughly 50-55% of arriving refugees settle in King County and the Seattle area.”
“And the largest number of recent refugees in the area are Somali?”
“I think you’re on track,” said Medina. “The problem is, I can neither verify or disavow what you say.”
Here’s something that is verifiable: If you want to find Somalis in Seattle, head to Dur Dur Café (2212 E Cherry). More specifically, head to Dur Dur if you want to find lots of Somali men, hanging out, drinking tea, eating goat, and playing dominoes.
Reviewers on Yelp (the only place online where you’ll find information on Dur Dur) are half right: the tea at Dur Dur Café is, in fact, “the bomb diggity.” It’s strong and scalding hot, milky and sweet, redolent of black tea, cardamom, cinnamon, and cloves, maybe even a little black pepper. Once you make your way to the back, past a few plain tables and prayer mats, you’ll find a pump thermos where you can help yourself to a cup. It’s easy to see why Dur Dur is a favorite among cab drivers looking for a little pick-me-up. But Yelpers are wrong on one point: This tea isn’t Indian Chai—it’s thoroughly Somali.
As for Dur Dur’s food, there is no menu. You’d be wise to just ask, “What food do you have today?” The answer is likely to be “Goat. Lamb. Beef. With rice. Or spaghetti.” This is simple food—meant not to impress, but to nourish and revive.
It also happens to be delicious: thin slices of lamb and goat chops, cooked on the bone slowly until they’re tender, spiced subtly with a dusting of curry. The meat comes on a gorgeous pile of moist and fluffy basmati rice studded with cardamom pods, whole peppercorns, and whole cloves. And the spaghetti? Surprisingly great, coated in a thick, dark red tomato sauce with thin slices of green pepper, and tasting of cumin and coriander. Between the strong tea, the spiced food, and the feeling of having infiltrated a men’s clubhouse for an hour, I left with tongue, lips, and head buzzing.
After my meal at Dur Dur, I made one final attempt to answer my original question and called Horn of Africa, a local organization providing social and outreach services to East African immigrants and refugees. “Oh,” chuckled director Tsegaye Gedru, “if you find those numbers, please tell me, because I would like to know too.” Gedru was clear that there are no exact numbers out there, but did offer up a guess that there may be up to 60,000 East Africans living in the greater Seattle area.
Will the day come when Somali tea—and food—become as ubiquitous as Chai? I hope so.
