Cold Hands, Cold Bellies

D had two choices for food for date night last week, Mexican or Ethiopian. (I’ve been wanting to try Mad Mex and Abay ever since I got to Pittsburgh.) He chose Ethiopian, so we were off to Abay. (Abay means “Blue Nile” in Ethiopian.)

It was quaint, not too big, but with about 20 tables, including little bucket seats you could sit at, the place didn’t feel too cramped either. It is BYOB, a fact I wish we’d known before we went. Without the booze option, D ordered the Ethiopian coffee and I ordered the Yekemem Shai. My tea was similar to chai tea, but not quite as spicy. The sweet flavors of cinnamon and nutmeg lingered on my tongue and I lapped it down. D’s coffee was very very strong, and brewed with cloves, which added a lovely flavor without being gimmicky (I tend to shy away from hazelnut or vanilla coffees), and I’m thinking about trying it at home with dessert coffee.

For $26 for two people you can get Abay’s combination platter consisting of any combination of four meat or veggie entrees. We ordered one of the specials, tilapia in a stewed sauce over spinach, as well as Misir Wat, red split lentils simmer in spicy berbere sauce, Ayib Be Gomen, collared greens and Abay’s homemade cheese, and Doro Tibs, strips of boneless chicken breast sautéed with homemade awaze, peppers, onions and herbs. Everything had amazingly complex favors, though my overall critique is their apparent inability to control the temperature of the food. Most dishes were pretty cold, as though their heat lamps didn’t work, or as though they didn’t account for different foods taken longer to cook than others. Even my tea wasn’t piping hot, like I expected it to be.

The best part of the evening was the table of three sitting directly to my left. It consisted of a teenage girl, her mom, and the girl’s boyfriend. Both the girl and her mom were quite straight-laced and very pretty and the boy had dreadlocks, a hideous Hawaiian shirt (appearing to be the only “collared shirt” he owns) and unfortunate acne. Whenever the mother would get up to use the bathroom the boy and girl would start making out (as much as you can in a crowded restaurant) and quickly stop when the mother got back. When they were all together the barely spoke, the mother tried a few times to engage the boy in conversation, but learned quickly that it was too much work. It was a wonderful study, but I felt bad for all parties involved.

So...people watching aside, I would say go once to try the food, BYOB, but don’t spend too much money on it. I’ve got my eyes peeled for a better Ethiopian restaurant somewhere and I’m going to find it.