RUNIN Ragged

Category: Food Tasting

  • Meskerem

    Meskerem

    When Meskerem opened on March 15, 1985, there wasn’t much of Ethiopia in D.C. Its owners were amongst the first wave of immigrants who fled their homeland after a Marxist military junta overthrew Emperor Haile Selassie in 1974.1 That coup triggered the civil war between Ethiopia and Eritrea that lasted until 2000 with the final peace agreement not being signed until 2018. 

    Both Ethiopian and Eritrean refugees settled down near the Adams Morgan neighborhood in D.C., a culturally diverse neighborhood known for its eclectic dining scene. The name AdMo is derived from two formerly segregated elementary schools and when the sun goes down, the laid-back 18th St transformed into a mile-long party zone. 

    The popularity and vibrant nightlife led to higher rent prices so a lot of the Ethiopian entrepreneurs moved out purchasing dilapidated properties on U and 9th Sts NW that were devastated by the 1968 riots following Martin Luther King Jr’s assassination.

    Eventually, the number of Ethiopian eateries got so dense on 9th St that several community leaders petitioned the D.C. government to rename the block “Little Ethiopia.” That petition was overruled since its location in Shaw was near Howard Theater and doing so would replace the “Black Broadway” moniker. 

    There’s always a lot of excitement in AdMo. On weekend nights, hoards of party-goers can be seen getting drunk and boisterous, raising a ruckus into the early morning.

    On Sunday, Sept 29, 2008, a man walked into Meskerem, greeted the owner, Mohaba Mohammed, with a hug, and then started chatting.  Everything seemed normal between the longtime friends. Suddenly and without provocation, the man took out his Beretta and then shot Mohaba in the neck. 2

    “Everybody don’t worry!” He yelled, then fired two shots into the ceiling before shooting himself in the head.

    Mohaba recovered from his injuries, and through the years, he and his sister, Nafisa Said kept the restaurant running, through the good times and hard, even as others around them closed.  They did that for 3o years, eventually becoming the oldest Ethiopian restaurant in the US — instrumental in shaping the personality of Adams Morgan into the vast melting pot that it is today.

    Supplies used to be tough to come by. Mohammed could not find any teff, an Ethiopian grain used to make injera.  So he used wheat flour and let the dough ferment for days in plastic buckets.  Today, Ethiopian Airlines flies daily to D.C. carrying injera, teff, spices, and much more. 

    So when Jackie invited me to join her for a Sept 2014 Ethiopian dinner at Meskerem, I was delighted to attend. There was a fairly large group of diners who were mostly Ethiopian cuisine neophytes. We didn’t sit on elegant wooden chairs or eat from pristine table tops. We were seated instead on traditional cushioned low chairs next to knee-high round tables made out of basket weave.

    Jackie Woodbury, Sept 25, 2014

    Join me tomorrow night for our Ethiopian dinner at Meskerem in Adams Morgan!

    Did you know Ethiopian New Year was Sept 11? Celebrate Meskerem, the name for the first month of the Ethiopian calendar. It ends the 3 month rainy season in Ethiopia (Jun-Aug) and celebrates more pleasant weather! We asked owners Mohaba and Nafisa to bring back their coffee ceremony for Bookalokal Inc.. Can’t wait! D.C. #DCeats #dcdining 

    Most of our group ordered the Meskerem Messob — mixed special which included beef, chicken, lamb, veggies, and unlimited injera all for $13.50 per person. A few ordered the veggie-only version. The dishes were anything but boring. The healthy portions included ruby beets, lentils, salad, carrots, green beans, and chickpeas and were flavored with garlic, paprika, and rosemary. The platter was fairly big and it was meant to be shared with others at your table.

    Sharing with others meant teamwork, better conversation, and synergy. We enjoyed our spicy palette of delicious curry-like stews accompanied by honey wine or St George, the national beer of Ethiopia. 

    The soft, stretchy, spongy flatbread doubled as an eating utensil and the hands still get plenty messy.

    “Is this the messiest you’ve ever gotten eating with your hands?” I asked my friend Yoomie Huynh.

    “Close, but not quite. The messiest I’ve ever gotten was at the Ben’s Chili Bowl half smoke eating contest during the H Street Festival. I didn’t win, but I ate everything in sight.” 

    Jackie enjoyed working with Mohaba and Nafisa in organizing the event. 

    “It brought lots of people from all different nationalities together to share a meal, a chat, and a smile,” she said. “Ethiopian cuisine is very communal.”

    I am forever awed by the resourcefulness and resiliency of the Ethiopian people.  Just like Tadiwos Belete from Boston Spa, the owners of Meskerem were innovative and resourceful in building their business and keeping it running despite limitations and setbacks.

    Less than a year later, Meskerem — after being opened every day since March 15, 1985, suddenly closed. The owners held down the fort and watched as one after another, Ethiopian eateries closed or relocated to U St or the burbs in Maryland and Northern Virginia. And after 30 years, they decided to sell the property to developers and retire from the limelight.

    And with that according to Tim Carman, food reporter at the Washington Post, “the neighborhood’s connection to that first wave of war-weary immigrants appears to be severed forever.”

    * * *

    1 Carman, Tim. “R.I.P., Meskerem: The Ethiopian restaurant that shaped Adams Morgan”, May 4, 2016

    2 “Manager of Meskerem Restaurant in D.C. shot, wounded”, Ethiopian Review, September 30, 2008

  • Best of DC

    We applied for the GWU Business Plan competition three times, hoping that indeed the third and last time was the charm.  Unfortunately, all the leprechauns in the world could not help us. Each time, we advanced to the semifinals, but the finals turned out to be our tough mudder. 

    The second time, was the most promising, where we came in 9th, so we served as a back-up just in case one of the top eight teams couldn’t present.  Unfortunately, we weren’t asked to pinch-hit and we went back to the drawing board for the following year. 

    Then, on April 2, 2013, I got the dreaded news that once again we didn’t make the cut.

    * * *

    April 2, 2013

    Chito,

    I was shocked that RUNINOut did not advance to the finals, since you were ranked #9 last year!  I didn’t read your 20-page business plan this time, but the feedback from the judges this year will give you more insights into why this happened, and you will receive it much sooner than before.  That’s all because I put an emphasis on upgrading this year to an online scoring/commenting system which means no re-keying of the judges’ comments.

    Please let me know if there’s anything I can do to help RUNINOut continue to grow and thrive.

    John Rollins 

    * * *

    Professor Rollins explained to me that the independent group of judges (mostly non-faculty business leaders) may not have had the insight to select the top teams. The business school was pulling for me, but since they had to keep the competition objective, they had no say in the matter.

    Not only did the rejection sting, but the elimination kept us from securing funding. That’s because the university published the results online so venture capitalists (VC) were privy to this info.

    My alma mater wasn’t the only one that rejected us.  We were also spurned by D.C.’s VC firm and accelerator Fortify as well as Baltimore’s Emerging Technology Center.  An accelerator takes an early-stage startup that has already developed a minimum viable product and helps them secure resources and capital funding. They also provide a nominal amount of funding in return for a small equity stake, normally 5-10%.

    So was acceptance to an accelerator the right path for RUNINOut? Without mentorship and funding, our chances of reaching rapid growth were slim to none. It didn’t mean that our business model wasn’t sound or that we would never be profitable. But it likely meant our company would focus on lifestyle instead of growth, on income rather than revenue, on bootstrapping instead of venture capital, and instead of advertising, we would rely on face-to-face guerrilla marketing.

    This new path was right up our alley.  Since we hosted several events a month, we had developed a knack for gaining traction and creating a buzz.  We provided value, engagement, and fun, and in return, our attendees spread the word virally and gave us raving reviews online.

    A week after receiving the bad news from GWU, Suzannah woke me up with some glad tidings.   We were selected as the “Best Restaurant App” in the Washington City Paper Readers’ Choice poll.

    After dozens and dozens of events, miles, and miles of pedicab rides, and tons of food blogs, the hard work seemed to have paid off. 

    I called Gregg Coppen, the web developer from Vancouver, and he almost fell off his chair.  “I’m so glad we decided to add the faceted search at the last minute — this feature must have been popular with restaurant-goers.”

    He was so proud to add the new “Best App” tag to his portfolio and exuberant that he could make a tremendous impact thousands of miles away.

    “When you approached us two years ago, we were hesitant to take on this project on a shoestring budget. But looking back, I’m damn glad we trusted our intuition.”

    “Yes, it’s amazing what we can accomplish if we all work together, communicate and innovate.”

    Soon, I shared the news with Professor Rollins. 

    “What, you beat Yelp, Foodspotting and Urban Table?”

    “It’s hard to believe — it was really the matter of getting name recognition and we did that by gaining traction.”

    “I tell you what. You guys didn’t advance, but your company has shown user-acceptance and income – that’s really what matters, not a trophy.”

    “But we still will not get a chance to present at the coveted New Venture Competition.”

    “Not if I have any say in it.”

    On April 22, 2013, I got the chance to do just that. I was delighted to have the opportunity to present my business and demo my site to the University where the idea was born. And that was really the most important thing — acceptance and validation from an academic institution. The consumers, we already had them in the bag.

  • Il Radicchio

    Il Radicchio

    Arlington is chock full of superior Sunday Brunch specials, so enticing that Washingtonians cross the river weekly to get their fill of boozy brunches. Just drive down Wilson Blvd. from Ballston to Rosslyn and there are brunch specials aplenty.

    Nestled between the intersection of Rosslyn and Courthouse, Il Radicchio has been serving oven-baked pizza and endless pasta specials since Clarendon was just a one-stoplight town.

    In the late 90’s Chef Roberto Donna opened Il Radicchio to add to his 12-restaurant empire that reigned the DMV restaurant scene. There were actually two other restaurants with the same name — one in Capitol Hill and one in Georgetown.

    It was a Donna concept similar to the well-acclaimed Galileo, yet more economical and efficient. While Carmine’s was known for authentic family-style dining with huge portions, Il Radicchio was known for its cozy, romantic ambiance serving smaller portions. 

    Judy Castiglia and I still had fond memories of last September’s meetup in Alba Osteria featuring authentic Northern Italian cuisine from Chef Donna’s Piedmont region. Now we wanted to see for ourselves if the current management kept the Donna gold standard alive.

    It had snowed a few inches the day before, a small accumulation coated the trees — everything was sparkling. Families and romantic couples were enjoying eloquent meals and light conversation while the soothing tunes of Frank Sinatra played softly in the background. We felt the warmth of the Italian brick oven and admired the lively walls covered with drawings of ducks, rabbits, and radicchios.

    I started with the fig arugula salad with pecans smothered in balsamic vinaigrette. “So, how’s your love life?”

    “Haw. how’s yours?”

    “Pizza and I are very happy together.”

    “Hee hee! Meat lovers or veggie?”

    “Neither just cheese.”

    Her eyes crinkled at the corners. “I’m dating a guy named Don who I met from speed dating. Don’t think it will last, though.” Judy forked into her field greens tossed generously with grapes, walnuts, and goat cheese.

    “Why he’s not smart enough for you?”

    “No, he’s brilliant. But I don’t think he’s over his divorce from three years ago.”

    I was admiring my beautifully plated rosemary lamb with poached eggs, chimichurri, and potato hash (russets mixed with sweet potatoes)

    Judy was now absorbed in her bacon-wrapped pork tenderloin with perfectly poached eggs and crispy polenta cakes.

    Judy enjoying her bacon-wrapped pork tenderloin

    I remember wanting to try the polenta last October at Donna’s Alba Osteria. But they went fast and were gone just as quick as when they arrived.”

    “is that the dish with the baked octopus? They went like hotcakes — Chef (Amy) Brandwein is a rising star.”

    “Yes, their eyes looked so inviting. And Chef (Andrew) Holden is doing an immaculate job today.”

    “Couldn’t agree with you more. But what I really wanna know is why you think he’s not ready to commit.”

    Judy cut into her tenderloin the brown sugar bacon drizzling in juice. “He lacks compassion and kindness for what I’m looking for. I made him a lasagna for Valentine’s, and he didn’t even bring a card.” 

    “What a prick.”

    “Well he’s brought flowers before and done other nice stuff, so he knows how to be a gentleman.”

    “Then was he trying to make a dumb statement?”

    “I guess I’ll give it just a little more time to see.”

    “I’ll say. It’s time for the second round.”

    Rosibel Carranza, a young mother from El Salvador came over with more zesty dishes.

    I couldn’t keep my eyes off Judy’s black Angus burger with crispy prosciutto and brûléed goat cheese.

    Judy bit into her homemade pickle and then took a bite of the potato hash made with russet and sweet potatoes. 

    Judy was served by Rosibel.

    “He has an MBA from MIT Sloan School of Management and has a security clearance so he’s probably not dangerous.”

    “MBA – that’s a worthless degree nowadays. I can vouch for that.”

    “Wait, if you didn’t return to school to get your MBA, you wouldn’t have founded RUNINOut.”

    “And I wouldn’t have gone to Ethiopia and met all those inspiring leaders, either.”

    “And if it wasn’t for Jason “Foodgeek” I never would have known about RUNINOut and all your great-tasting events”

    “Well, bring Don to our next eatup so Foodgeek and I can grill him for you. We won’t let anything slip through the cracks.”

    “I’ve invited Don before but so far he has shown no interest. He’s not into meeting people and trying different cuisines. Guess he’s kinda dull.”

    “Well, then I would dump him for sure. He’s definitely not your type.”

    “Yeah, I wish I can find someone smart, handsome, fun, happy, compassionate, and calm. That would be quite a catch.”

    “Well, that’s a high standard. I can’t imagine too many suitors in this town would qualify.”

    “Well, then what’s your idea of the ideal woman?”

    “Someone who’s resourceful, understanding, able to communicate, innovative, and decisive.”

    Judy snickered and violently shook her head. “No wonder you’re still single.”

    “Well, right now I’m in love with my rosemary lamb chops.”

    “I thought you were seeing Christine?”

    “Oh no, we’re just friends. She’s an amazing woman tho, so she shouldn’t stay single for long.”

    “Say, I have this friend I want you to meet — she’s super skinny and photogenic. Perhaps I’ll invite her to your next event.”

    “Please do, but if she’s that pretty, then I’m probably not her type.”

    “Well, do you use any dating apps?”

    “I’ve tried Tinder and it’s just a lot of chatter and small talk purgatory.”

    “How ’bout Hinge?”

    “Yeah, I met the co-founders at DC Tech — they’re nice guys, but I wouldn’t recommend their app.”

    “Why not.”

    “Cuz I don’t think their algorithm referring friends of friends really works.”

    “Well you’ve got a lot of friends on Facebook — maybe you can play matchmaker.”

    I chewed on that thought for a second when Chef Holden appeared with a beautiful plate of yogurt cream parfait sprinkled magnificently with nectarines, lavender, and almond granola. 

    Chef Andrew Holden

    Judy was still working on her burger “Oh no, if I only just had room.”

    “Kudos to the Iron chef!” I lifted my dessert fork ready to pounce. “You’ve made Chef Donna proud.”

    Andrew snickered “Yeah if Roberto Donna would just pay his taxes.”

  • The Gentle Giant

    The Gentle Giant

    Sarah Berghoff was out with friends and wanted to visit a brand new spot in Shaw for cocktails and Asian-inspired cuisine. Upon entry, a 1920’s style mural with an icon of Charlie Chaplin came into view. The space was elegant with a speakeasy vibe. On the wall above the bar, The Tramp played on a reel. 

    A tall, burly man with a big smile came over and greeted them.

    “Hi, I’m Armin. Welcome to Chaplin’s. We’re a ramen, cocktail, and dumpling bar.”

    “What does Charlie Chaplin have to do with Ramen?” Sarah asked.

    “Well, the legendary silent film star was adored in Japan. That’s because he could make people laugh without uttering a word.”

    “What a charming connection. What do you recommend?”

    “If you like your spirits strong, I recommend the Tramp. It’s Bourbon with a burnt orange peel. For ramen, I recommend the ASS.”

    “Excuse me?”

    “ASS – Asian Spicy Sour. chicken chashu, coconut milk, chicken broth, and pork butt. It’s our take on the ever-popular Tom Yum soup with noodles imported from Japan.”

    Several minutes after Sarah and her friends sat down, the bartender with a cool Chaplin-style outfit served them their classy cocktails.

    Armin came by again to see what they thought of the innovative cocktail menu. 

    “Fabulous. I can see you have broad experience in this industry.”

    “Yes, I’ve worked in this business for over 20 years. At the Capitol City Brewery and most recently at the Saint Arnold’s Mussel Bar.”

    “Amazing sounds like you’re a powerful force in the restaurant industry.”

    “Well, the co-owners are bartender brothers, Ari and Micah Wilder – owners of Red Light on 14th Street – we’re a star-studded class.”

    “You know there’s someone you should meet that’s an up-and-comer in this industry. He’s a quintessential foodie and has a finger on the pulse in this industry.”

    Armin with Sarah

    The next day I got a call from Armin. 

    “So Sarah speaks highly of you. I thought I was the Big Man on Campus.”

    “You’re a rockstar, Armin. All I do is promote restaurants and host some events. You’re the brains behind your brand and do all the heavy lifting.”

    “Well, we sure could use some help with marketing and developing our web presence.  When we opened a few months ago, we were named The Chaplin. Now his estate is threatening a lawsuit so we changed it to Chaplin’s”

    “I can help with the name change and ensure that your website and social media reflects the new and improved branding.”

    The following week, I met with Armin and his co-owners, brothers Ari and Micah Wilder as they gave me a spirited tour of their cozy space. 

    The vibe and ambience were warm and welcoming and the Laughing Gas cocktail I ordered was potent and bursting with flavors.  

    “We figured out a way to compress carbon dioxide with helium,” said Micah. “You’re gonna sound really funny and everyone’s gonna be laughing at you.”

    I also met Chef Myo Htun, a native of Burma who cooked under a Master Ramen Chef in Tokyo for 30 years.

    “Chef Myo is a tireless worker,” Armin said. “He’s worked every day since we’ve opened. We should make him a co-owner one day.”

    Chef Myo Htun

    Chef Myo served me the Tonkotsu Ramen with the broth made from boiling pork neck bones – the collagen in the connective tissue transforms into gelatin, which gives the broth its silky texture. Inside the bowl were melt-in-your-mouth chasu pork belly and soft boiled eggs with custardy egg yolk.

    “Your ramen kicks ass, Armin. I would love to host our next get-together here and invite all ramen enthusiasts to celebrate Shaw’s hottest, new setting.”

    “Sounds like a fabulous idea. If we could also do a fundraiser for Bread for the City, that would be great also.”

    The next month on October 22, 2014, dozens of ramen and cocktail fans converged at the downstairs bar for a private event. 

    Christine arrived early as usual and secured a spot at the bar. 

    “Hey Chris, good to see you. How was the military ball with Khoi?”

    “The Vietnamese-American Military Banquet was an overwhelming experience with lots of shiny uniforms, great food, and formal traditions — we had a blast.”

    “I can picture that. I’ve been to a few military balls myself. They can be quite fun. “

    “Met so many amazing Vietnamese Americans and they gave each of us a commemorative coin.”

    “Carry it around with you — it’s a good luck charm.”

    “And I wish the best to Khoi as he heads to Kosovo for a six-month peacekeeping mission.”

    To kick things off, many guests were introduced to the payday adult-only dumplings — infused with Japanese whiskey. You could choose from a steamed shrimp dumpling on a whiskey sour named The Cold War, a hot pork dumpling on a lemon emulsion, or a hot beef dumpling with Japanese whiskey.

    “This is what happens when a couple of bartenders open up a restaurant,” Micah declared.

    I’ve tried all three, and Micah told me to tap on the brakes. So I was happy to entertain guests to see which one they preferred. 

    BJ enjoying the dumplings

    BJ McDuffie sampled The Cold War. “Mmm, the shrimp shooters are savory and boozy–a perfect combination. I’m ready for the next one.”

    I ordered a Payday from Margaux behind the bar. “How was Drink the District BJ?”

    “Meh, could be better — it was a scorching, hot day. But this is even hotter.”

    “So, what have you been up to lately?”

    “Bowling, bocce, and brunch — that ’bout sums it up.”

    “Have you been to Alba Osteria in NOMA? They serve an awesome brunch and have a bocce parklet outside.”

    “Not yet, but I’m a fan of Roberto Donna.”

    “How about Myo Htun – what do you think of his culinary skills?”  

    Christine Bach enjoying the Cure & ASS

    “By the juiciness of these dumplings, Chef Myo ranks up there with José Andrés and Richard Sandoval.”

    As expected, our resident comic made a showing.

    “One of my favorite indie chefs is Erik Bruner-Yang,” said Wayne Manigo. “And with my cooking skills and an endless supply of ramen, I could give  Toki Underground a run for their money.” 

    “What if you’re a butterfly, but you’re too busy being a caterpillar?”

    “Mine is Chef Anh Luu, who cooks Cajun/creole with Vietnamese ingredients,” Christine said. “And I like my ramen spicy, so I’m here to kick some A.S.S.” While she waited, she ordered the Cure, and Micah blow-torched a piece of rosemary on her fruity cocktail. 

    “Yeah, I know it’s all presentation, but I swear it does taste better,” she said.

    Wayne took a taste of Christine’s Cure. “Please pour me a damn drink !! Do not put any herbs and spices in my cocktail that is only for food and also don’t light the dam thing on fire either!”

    Armin put a hand on Wayne’s shoulder. “What makes Chaplin’s stand out from all the rest is the personality of our bartenders. People come from near and far just to have Jake (Jacob Simpson), Said, or Margaux pour them a drink, ask them how their day is going and tell a kickass joke. You’re hired.”

    Margaux Donati mixed a Vagabond cocktail. “We love you boss. You’re a true friend.”

    It was also good to see Deb Santos again. 

    “Hey Big Shot, how’s your growth?”

    “A long, hard struggle and still tripping.”

    “That’s normal. It’s important to show some self-compassion for your blunders.  Don’t regret the things you have done as much as the things you never did.  It’s better to get up and do something rather than nothing, and right now, you’re the big-time host of this fabulous party, so you should be grateful.”

    “I can always rely on you for wise advice Deb. Still haven’t cut back on my drinking though.”

    “Alcohol is a depressant and keeps us at a lower vibration. Try limiting yourself to two drinks and take small sips and plenty of water in between.”

    “Limiting myself to two drinks is like telling my pitbull, he can’t eat my ice cream.”

    “What if you’re a butterfly, but you’re too busy being a caterpillar?”

    When Sarah arrived, I was pleased to show her my new business card. She liked the running Orangutan logo popping out on a yellow background. But when she turned it over, she nearly flipped out. 

    Sarah showing her picture to friends

    “Whoa, you put my picture on the back!!”

    “Well, you said you wanted to see the picture of us at Toro Toro.”

    “But not on your business card.”

    “But, your face is more interesting than mine,” I explained. “No worries, you’re not the only one — I also put Kanita and Jackie on there, too.”

    “Well, I’m honored to be promoting your website,” she replied in jest.

    “And I’m honored to have you serve as our de facto brand ambassador. After all, you introduced me to Armin and Chaplin’s.”

    Later that evening inside the Opium Den, Armin and I were slurping on some ASS.

    “So what do you do for fun?” He asked.

    “Besides running and drinking, I like to go paddleboarding on the Potomac. I normally launch from the Slip Inn on (Joint Base) Bolling.”

    “Right on bro. I love boating myself. We like to take the Chaplin’s crew and launch from Edgewater (MD).”

    “So the neighborhood is continuing to change. What are your plans moving forward?”

    “Perhaps adding a sushi joint next door or building an American diner across the street.”

    I took a sip of the Kid cocktail “Would it be another Hollywood-inspired name?”

    “Yes, Shawshank Diner comes to mind–one of the best movies ever made..”

    “And Shaw is one of the city’s hippest up-and-coming neighborhoods,” I said.

    “Indeed, my beloved community is still very much on the move. This is why I love this city.” 

    “I’ll drink to that — another round of yummy shooters, please. Take it easy on the whiskey.”

    I looked over my shoulders and could swear I saw the stern eyes of Deb keeping me in check.

    The A.S.S. is so savory, you can drink it by the bowl

  • Mmm Sumah’s

    In the summer of 1990, a half dozen U.S. Navy 2nd class midshipmen from different parts of the U.S. were excited to be spending their summer in the Mediterranean. They would be embarking aboard USS Peterson (DD 969) which was scheduled to visit Italy, Spain, France, and Israel. 

    Then suddenly civil war broke out in Liberia and Peterson was called upon to make a high-speed transit off the coast with Marines on board to evacuate American citizens trapped in the fighting. The six illustrious midshipmen were rerouted to Rota where we boarded a CH-46 Sea Knight and flew over West Africa. 

    MIDN Dave Trotman aboard CH-46 Sea Knight

    I remember flying over the savannas in Senegal, elephants grazing in the sparse grassland. Then over the dense mangrove forest in Guinea traversing the Great Scarcies River which borders Sierra Leone. Barely a soul was seen until we arrived in the capital city of Freetown. There we flew over dozens of shantytowns packed with makeshift shelters squeezed on the banks of rivers, on the face of steep mountains, and on the precipice of the sea. The rainy season was pending and due to overpopulation and deforestation, the risk of mudslides was great. I wished we could visit the tenements and the bustling street markets. But we were there due to war in Liberia and to support Operation Sharp Edge, so we headed to the Lungi Airport to await our SH-60 Seahawk to transport us to our ship. 

    Marines evacuate Americans from Liberia. (Courtesy of DoD)

    While we waited, we were tired and famished, so we purchased some smoked herring and fried plantains washed down with mango juice from an eager street food vendor. Though it was just a slice, the food was mouthwatering and fresh, and I craved for a little bit more. That was the last time I ate West African food.

    My contractor working on the boiler on my rental in Lebaum St told me about a Jamaican girl who just arrived in Virginia and was looking to move into the city.

    “Do you have a room?” He asked candidly.

    “Not here in Lebaum, but at my other property at Bruce Place, perhaps.”

    The next day, I drove 50 miles south on the congested 95 to the exurb of Fredericksburg to pick her up.

    “I’m just hanging out in the countryside working at Firehouse Subs, bored and wasting time.”

    “So what are your plans while in D.C.,” I asked Kimara.

    “Meet city peeps, git ah job, try sum criss cooking.”

    “Anything in particular?”

    “I’m feeling homesick, so I want to get some cassava and curry — something that reminds me of home. 

    I showed her RUNINOut and did a search for Jamaican food. She was impressed but then asked me to search for cassava. The nearest spot was a West African restaurant in Petworth. 

    She pointed to a spot on the map. “Sumah’s — I want you to take me there.”

    When Isata and Amara Sumah immigrated here from Sierra Leone 40 years ago, they had very little possessions and money. They worked hard every day at local restaurants and rented a $100-a-month apartment across the street from where Sumah’s stands today.

    Since 1993 when Isata and Amara opened up their West African restaurant, Sumah’s, they have been serving Jollof rice and West African stews daily. They typically start their day at 8 am and work until 10 pm then drive to their house in Southern Maryland, where their two college-aged daughters live.

    “We’ve worked hard so we could buy a house and put our two daughters through college,” said Amara.

    Sumah’s is a modest seven-table restaurant with neon green walls adorned with hand-carved wood beaded masks.

    When Kimara and I walked in, we could immediately sense the aroma of African spices and the fragrant smell of nuts. We followed the savory scent to the kitchen where we found Amara smiling while gently stirring a large pot of cassava that would be quickly consumed by his loyal lunchtime clientele.

    Amara Sumah

    Both Amara and Isata were very pleasant and cordial. They believed in bestowing authentic customer service and took great joy in introducing Washingtonians to West African cuisine, steeped in history and geography.

    “This is my new friend Kimara from Jamaica,” I said. “She adores West African food.”

    “Of course, I grew up with it. Jamaican cuisine is a fusion of African, Creole and Latin American,” Kimara replied. “Where do you think jerk sauce comes from?”

    “Well, we treat all first timers to a free sampler of our delectable cuisine,” Isata said as she dished up a plate of jollof rice with seven other sauces along with egusi and peanut butter stew.

    “That’s very kind of you. I’ve been craving for cassava-leaf stew for the past two months since I arrived in the US,” Kimara said delightfully. “A large bowl please and plenty of peanut butter gravy — my favorite.”

    “Of course,” Isata stated. “We always serve our customers a healthy plate. Whatever you can’t eat, take it home and enjoy it there.”

    We sat down, admiring the African wall art. The canvas displaying ethnic African women and the handmade pieces were eye-catching and fascinating. 

    Another customer next to us was deeply engrossed in his stew. This goat with jollof is so spicy and tender,” he said. “I’ve eaten everything on this menu, and I come here at least twice a week.”

    One patron from Liberia told me that he came here in 1990, and there were no West African restaurants or stores in D.C. Thankfully now there is a handful and he visits Bukom in Adams Morgan on weekends for dancing and drinks.

    “Hey Amara, when did you arrive in the US?” I asked.

    “Nov 28, 1978 — with nothing but a dollar to my name.”

    “May 28, 1990 — was the day I set foot in Freetown,” I mentioned. “A hidden gem, but sadly with thousands of impoverished people, overcrowded and in need.”

    “Have you been back to Africa since?”

    “No just Egypt and Ethiopia, but I would like to travel to West Africa and enjoy her mountains and rainforests and tour national parks to witness wildlife.”

    It didn’t take long for our steamy hot food to come out along with soothing ginger juice on ice.

    “Made with Love from Freetown,” Isata stated. “Our ingredients are imported directly from West Africa.”

    “Mmm,” Kimara exclaimed “My Mother would be amazed.” Kimara didn’t wait long to start digging in.

    “Easy now, this isn’t a cassava eating contest,” I said with a smirk as I dished some of my Jollof onto her plate. “Just as this scrumptious meal was slow-cooked, we have to consume it slowly.”

    Cassava-leaf stew

    Kimara took another bite and smiled warmly. “I should order a gallon of this egusi and peanut butter stew.”

    “You got it, and I’ll add a bowl of krain-krain and some fufu,” Isata said. 

    “We love our customers,” Amara said. “Some drive hundreds of miles just for a warm bowl of Jollof. They are all considered family.”

    Kimara reached over and gave the Sumahs a warm hug. “You guys are so incredibly sweet and charming. This brings back wonderful memories from home. #HugsnKisses”

    “Thank you soooo much Mama & Papa Sumah,” I said as I joined them in the hug. “And please send my regards to your whole family.”

    Kimara enjoyed the cassava

    After being satiated I asked Kimara where she would like to go next.  

    “To the mall to visit the museums. Then I need to fine ah job.”

    “What kind of work?”

    “Waitress, but eventually attend Bartending school.”

    “Do you enjoy bartending?”

    “It was my first job at the age of 16, right on the corner of Windward Road in Kingston.”

    “Any particular restaurants?”

    “Caribbean of course. But really I can work anywhere. Beach bars, sports bars, I’m flexible baby love.”