Outside of the Horn of Africa, the world’s largest population of Ethiopians resides here, in and around Washington DC. The churches, community centers, and restaurants scrawled with Amharic letters announce the diaspora community’s vibrant cultural presence throughout Alexandria, Silver Spring, and the U Street Corridor.
Ethiopian food needs no introduction, but the country’s beverages are not so well known. Still, if we look around us, we can find tej, a honey wine with at least 2,000 years of history, tella, a beer made from the same grain as injera bread, and areki, a liquor infused with star anise. Thanks to the vibrant Ethiopian community in the DMV, Washingtonians have unprecedented access to this rich drinking culture. All should seize this opportunity and go on an Ethiopian pub crawl.
In the early afternoon, we start with lunch at Chercher, a bustling spot squeezed into a Shaw townhouse. First on our list is tej. Traditionally made with fine Tigrayan honey and hopped with the leaves and twigs of gesho or the shiny-leaf buckthorn, this brand of honey wine was American-made. For all the sweetness of honey, the wine is dry and floral with great big pearls of effervescence; great afternoon tipple, and a delicate way to dive into Ethiopian booze. We also get some Habesha Lager–a hearty and smooth beer that cuts through the spice of the vegan sampler we ordered. Impeccably chilled, with a vibrant metallic label, we deem it worthy of its “Cold Gold” slogan.
After establishing a base layer at Chercher, we roll across O Street to the quaint Family Ethiopian Restaurant. Like its name, the place has few frills but is a welcoming place for a beer, tea, or coffee. Here we order a traditional teff beer brewed locally with an Ethiopian recipe in Northern Virginia by Negus Brewing Company. Teff beer, commonly called tella, is made with the same minuscule grain that makes up the backbone of Ethiopian cuisine in the form of spongy injera bread. It has a dark, grainy taste with a fluffy head. Our temperance demands a tea, and the host offers an aromatic infusion of star anise with a choice of American mass-market tea bags.
From here, we cruise East 2 blocks to arrive at Lalibela. The worn, white awning out front floats contrasts the regal, gold wallpaper in the entrance corridor. It has a cafe feel with a cozy back bar. Several Ethiopian men banter in Amharic as they have heaping plates of spaghetti. The bartender shows us bags of frankincense and myrrh as a man fills a censer and disappears through a back door. We order teff beer again, as they only offer one Ethiopian beer and the same brand of tej we had at Chercher.
Feeling the levity of several drinks, we are ready for the trek up to U Street. We walk for 15 minutes to so-called Little Ethiopia and open the unassuming door of Ambassador on 9th Street. Unbeknownst to us, we had just left Ethiopia and stumbled into its cultural twin and neighbor, Eritrea. Here, the walls are tiled with images of traditional tej flasks called berille. We order Asmara beer, imported from the capital of Eritrea in short, stubby bottles emblazoned with a bounding antelope. Compared to teff beer, it is a light, easy-drinking lager. The owner entertains us, and we get 2 generous shots of areki, also imported from Asmara with azalea blue labels. This is the distillate of tella beer infused with star anise–a shot of licorice we did not know we needed.
The areki brings on the beginning obscurity of dusk, and it is time to get something else in our stomachs. Just next door, we crawl over to Habesha Market & Carry-Out, a low-key, cafeteria-style place well equipped to serve a group of folks who have already had their fair share to drink. We get heaping piles of lamb tibs, quanta firfir, and the obligatory kitfo. They have a different tej, and it washes down the mosaic of Ethiopian spices with a sweet, Fanta-like finish.
By this hour, U Street is alive with the going-out crowd, and we bypass the western bars to crawl up the stairs of Ghion. Apparently a restaurant by day, Ghion is a cozy bar suitable for friendly gatherings with music, tej, and more areki. We drink both from plastic cups. If you want to cut your tej–as one Ethiopian woman cautioned us to do–with sparkling water, Ghion also has the Polar Seltzer of Addis Ababa, Ambo, a sparkling mineral water.
After a couple at Ghion–we are well on our way to U Street level intoxication–but we stumble back to Ambassador, The promise of live Eritrean music piqued our interest. At this hour, the place is packed with Eritrean men drinking Asmara beer and smoking hookah. We finish our night doing the same–as an animated singer fills the smoky room with the unfamiliar beauty of Tigrinya songs.
Not only is an Ethiopian pub crawl an incredible cultural experience, but it is also a relatively affordable way to drink in Northwest DC–beers are $5-$6, and a glass of wine is $7-$8. If you already go out in U Street, if you’ve become weary of the lines outside popular bars, if your Budweiser is tasting just a bit too American why not get a couple of friends and go on an Ethiopian pub crawl for a change?
Monterrey is Mexico’s industrial city. While traditional beverages might be hard to come by here, the city’s history has long been influenced by beer. That is Cervecería Cuauhtémoc was one of the city’s original factories and helped to develop much of Monterrey’s early heavy industry.
In the correspondence regarding these cargoes, the owner literally measures a human’s worth in gallons of rum: “toutching first upon the Windward Coast, where I would have you dispose of your Cargo if PoSsible. & purchase your Slaves, even sopose you give One Hundred + fifty Gallons Per head [sic]” The letters even use the word “to slave” meaning to fill the ship’s hold with a cargo of humans.
As the pineapple supply dwindled, prices skyrocketed. The USDA reports that pineapple prices tripled in South Africa from 28 cents per kilogram to over 90 cents. If the government would not allow the South Africans to buy their booze, they would use some Mzansi ingenuity to make it at home. For this purpose, they required pineapples.
In New York’s state capital, beer historians are rewriting history. At one point, Albany sat at the pinnacle of American brewing. This forgotten history informs the heritage of beer in Albany, and it may also provide a foundation upon which local craft brewers can develop into the future.
Subscribe to our Monthly TAB Newsletter to stay curious about drinking culture.
One more thing! Check your inbox (Promotional & Junk) for a message from us. Click the link in the email to confirm subscription!