Somalian spot delicious addition to city menu

Hey there, time traveller!
This article was published 13/03/2009 (6418 days ago), so information in it may no longer be current.

I know this address. I’ve eaten here often when it was under different dispensations, all of them Vietnamese, and enjoyed on each visit both the food and the charming murals of seascapes. But now one wall has lost its mural — the biggest and most beautiful one, as it happens, replaced by plain acidic green. It’s otherwise a bright and spacious place, with parts of the murals remaining on other walls, and white tablecloths embroidered with pretty butterflies under glass or clear plastic.

These new tenants aren’t to blame for the destruction of the mural, which was already gone when they moved in. And for the first time the food isn’t Vietnamese. It’s Somali, the city’s first. Well, one can’t mourn the loss of one Vietnamese restaurant in a city teeming with so many good ones. And one can certainly celebrate the addition of a new cuisine, especially since in this case it is delicious.

There are only two appetizers (listed at the end, along with an unavailable chocolate cake) but they are spectacularly good and unbelievable bargains.

Falafel, for instance, are unlike any other falafel you may have had — subtly spiced with coriander, lighter than most, almost fluffy, in fact, and incredibly crunchy (four for $1). The other is a huge hot samosa of flaky golden pastry enclosing bits of ground beef and sauteéd onions ($1 each).

After my first bite of each I was pretty sure I had struck gold. Good ethnic restaurants aren’t rare, but the hand in this kitchen seemed particularly deft, and I was astonished to learn that Roda — the owner-cook — had never worked in a restaurant before. Although Ethiopia is a neighbour, don’t come expecting any great similarities to that cuisine. For one thing (here, at least) there’s a greater emphasis on meat than on vegetables; for another, the seasonings, the rice and the couscous are much more reminiscent of the Middle East in general, Morocco in particular.

Much of the meat used in Somali cooking is goat or camel — the former isn’t always easy to find here, the latter impossible. Searchers of authenticity won’t miss them, since the kitchen does such a good job on dishes made with beef and chicken (no pork — the restaurant is strictly halal).

The seasoning is subtle, nuanced and fragrant with spices. Nothing will taste strange; even the most timid should enjoy the food, as long as they don’t mind a bit of heat. Was there a whiff of cumin in the kebab? Yes, and that was definitely a cardamom pod I bit into. And fresh, green chilis unquestionably provided the heat in that tiny container of searing vinegar-based sauce (it may not come automatically, so be sure to ask for it).

If you skip the burger and fries and the beef or chicken wrap you are left with a mere five Somali-style entrées, but they were what I’d come for. The menu offers no descriptions, and I had no idea what to expect, but with entrées a mere $8.50 to $9.99 (including beverage) I took the easy path, and asked for some of everything.

It’s an approach I recommend for the most fun, but only if you aren’t in a hurry — I suspect it may have taxed the kitchen since, after the appetizers, our main courses straggled out slowly, one after another, and in no particular order. And since the house-made bread didn’t turn up until we’d finished the main courses we were unable to eat in traditional Somali fashion, i.e., tearing off swatches of the bread to scoop up the food. So we made do with plastic utensils. But that bread, incidentally — flaky, chapati-like, plate-size circles — was marvellous.

The entrée that had us raving was the grilled salmon steak, flaky and juicy under a glaze that was both tangy and sweet (from drizzles of vinegar and molasses), paired with a saffron-infused rice pilaf that was nothing short of superb. We were also impressed with the moist kabob of ground beef, which was paired with ultra-fluffy couscous. The beef and chicken entrées came in the form of little cubes stewed with bits of onions, peppers and spices and perched on a mountain of that marvellous rice. There was also a simple salad of head lettuce with a few slices of tomato, the only dressing provided by wedges of lemon, which was actually pretty refreshing.

We were surprised to find spaghetti on the menu, and if we’d known our history we might have remembered that part of Somaliland had been an Italian colony from the 1880s until 1941. Naturally, we had to try it, and at first glance the pale orange pasta reminded us of the kind that comes in Heinz cans. But it didn’t taste like Heinz. In fact, that pale orange, although less distinctive than the other dishes, was actually a light tomato sauce with a bit of a bite, and without that zap of chili powder, the little cubes of beef wouldn’t have tasted much different from your grandmother’s stew.

Apparently under an old Somali custom it was considered polite to leave a little on the plate, to indicate to the host that one has been given enough food. In which case my bunch was ultra-polite — there was no way we could finish everything I had ordered. Which, by the way, came to a mere $75 for four of us.

The family that runs this place — mom Roda in the kitchen, sons out front — are wonderfully warm, patient and helpful. I don’t know how long your food would take if, like most normal people, you ordered one entrée only; certainly it seemed to come pretty quickly for others in the restaurant. But if you order the kind of feast I did allow plenty of time.

You may need it. And it will be worth it.

marion.warhaft@freepress.mb.ca