The earth-colored collage of stewed meats and lentils at Messob is already a beautiful mess. But the situation only gets stickier when the restaurant staff encourages you to share in gursha – the Ethiopian ritual of hand-feeding your companion chunks of this aromatic, peppery mash-up.
Shed any reservations, lock eyes and reach across. There is more to be gained than a sauce-speckled sleeve, when bringing people here for dinner.
Home to the largest group of Ethiopians in America, it’s only fitting that the neighborhood is officially called Little Ethiopia. To find it, you wander slightly southwest of LACMA, contemplating the purple-pink-and-unholy-blue surrealism of the L.A. evening sky, and right there on Fairfax – next to the local Carl’s Jr. drive-thru – flags of red, gold and green wave you in from the sidewalk.
People who eat from the same plate will never betray one another
Supernatural vibes prevail inside Messob, one of the block’s main establishments, as Haile Selassie greets you from its walls. Seated only slightly above the ground in front of a round wicker basket – a traditional Ethiopian table that has shared its name with the restaurant since 1985 — you might feel inclined to complement the bubbly sound waves with a bottle of imported Amber beer. Copper colored, sweet, vaguely resembling of Port wine, it is as welcoming as the mood inside this neon-lit oasis. Feeling at home comes in handy, because you are not going to find utensils or dinner plates anywhere. Instead, loads upon loads of sour flat bread serve as spongy spoons for just about everything on the menu.
If you are like most people, a waitress tells me, you order the Super Messob Exclusive: a sampler platter of deep-red stews of beef, chicken and lamb – simmered in a mildly spiced sauce of chopped shallot, red pepper, ginger, cardamom and cumin. The dish is gi-normous, plenty for two, and while it does not get any prettier as you dig in, flat bread in hand, it is as easy, fun and warm-hearted as the melodica tooting on the stereo.
Loads upon loads of sour flat bread serve as spongy spoons
New guests are met with cheers and hugs from the host, who might proudly notice, as do I, that no two parties look the same. People who eat from the same plate will never betray one another, so the saying goes in Ethiopia. I feel comforted, even grateful, that in this curious corner of town, Angelenos of all breeds and brands break bread with profound promise. However divided society looks outside, in here we blend as seamlessly as the letters on Messob’s ebullient façade.