Addis (Richmond, Virginia)

Tired of shuttling back and forth to Washington, D.C., from his home in Richmond to get the food that reminded him of his home in Ethiopia, the owner of Addis, named Bitew, decided to terminate these jaunts and opened his own restaurant in 2008. And that life choice made me very happy.

Located in an open plaza that doubles as the site of the 17th Street Farmers Market just a block from the glorious Main Street Train Station, Addis is one of the members of the mini-international food scene concentrated here, a micro-globe of cuisines: American, Cuban, and Thai restaurants, an Irish pub heavily illuminated in green lighting, and, around the corner, Japanese and Mexican options.

Inside Addis, you can grab a table or sit at the bar, surrounded by African art on the walls, lots of wood, and a tin ceiling. Outside on the covered patio, however, is more interesting: the brick and cobblestone square features trees wrapped with white lights, and music from the wedding reception across the square filters out to keep you entertained.

A friendly waitress brought me a menu and a couple of napkins, but no silverware (see below). As she explained the menu to me, I admitted I was apprehensive: I had forsworn Ethiopian food after having it only once before, in Washington, D.C., and it remains one of the worst meals of my life. She was confident that Ethiopian cuisine would be redeemed here and would dispel my animus for this African cuisine. She was right.

Try This: Order an Ethiopian wine, such as Gouder, produced from honey and a form of hops called Gesho—it’s dry and sweet at the same time. Start with the sambussas, a crisp, pan-fried pastry shell stuffed with spiced lentils and spinach. Next, choose the yebeg awaze tibs—cubed lamb pieces seasoned with chopped onions, tomatoes, and green peppers, simmered in not-too-spicy Awaze sauce—and a side of denech alicha wot, fresh potatoes and carrots softened in a mild curry sauce. It’s all served with injera, a spongy, sour fermented pancake-like flatbread with countless holes that don’t go all the way through, which is a very good thing, because it doubles as your utensils—just scoop up your meal and savor every bit.