Time out

GIVING Shakespeare8217;s famed and oft-repeated quote somewhat of a twistWhat8217;s in a name?8221; appears on the reverse of the menu cardof an Ethiopian restaurant on College Street in New Haven, the USA. I wasdining there recently with my daughter Indira and Neda her Iranian friend,who were keen on me sampling the variety of cuisine available inrestaurants from different parts of the world in this university town thathosts Yale in picturesque Connecticut of North America.

Whenever we were lucky to be free from familial constraints, Indira would plan for us a new experience, much to the delight of my taste buds. A different restaurant each time. The Ethiopian restaurant was obviously Eritrean, as I learnt from a revealing story on the menu card, which went on to educate me that Adulis8217; was an ancient port in Eritrea8217;s bay of Zula. Was that why the place was named Cafe Adulis? I wouldn8217;t know. But apparently Adulis was one of Africa8217;s great lost cities, which was the main port of the Axumite Empire that flourished in the Horn of Africa during the 3rd Century BC. Its ruins, supposed to stand even today across the Red Sea from what is now known as Yemen.

I found nestling amidst the so-called traditional Eritrean dishes of Tsebhes and Tibsies our own Basmati, as were dishes like Professor Soares8217;sSoiree8217;, an exotic sounding oven-baked fish filet of Tilapia with a sauteeof leek, sun dried tomatoes, dried apricots, whole roasted tomatoesfinished with a cabernet wine, all served over a bed of couscous and toppedwith sliced roasted almonds. As again, were Master T8217;s Favorite8217;,Atilde;iquest; don8217;tmiss the American spelling, the Roman Caesar Salad8217;, theArab/Turkish/Greek Hommous8217;, the Spanish/Mexican Ficracho8217; andInjerrito8217;, alongside the indecipherable tongue-twisters Timtmo8217; orTibsie Ah8217;melmlti8217; claimed to be true Eritrean delicacies among thequot;hearty and zestyquot; vegetarian extravaganza that make fine entracirc;euro;scaron;es bythemselves or as great compliment to the meat dishes one orders.

I learnt that the Tsebhes that unlock for you the magic and mystery ofnortheast Africa are unique and unforgettable dishes of meat or vegetablescooked in tomato sauce, their secret being the long simmering with berbere8211; Eritrea8217;s unique blends of sun dried hot peppers. And these are served oninjera 8211; a sourdough crepe made from Teff 8211; a variety of millet from EastAfrican highlands.

Immersed as I was in my menu card, I saw the food had arrived 8211; served bynot Africans, but pretty, white, university students. The stuff placedbefore us reminded me of the one common central dish round which all satand partook from together 8211; in homes of my childhood Muslim friends. Forall that had been ordered, appeared to have been dumped into one large andflat thali-type of a serving dish and placed in the centre of the table.Everything appeared sauced and sauteed up with the same dull white sauce 8211;with no gourmet special taste to write home about. Even as I left therestaurant the nagging question remained 8212; why call the cafe Adulis?Atilde;iquest;Perhaps the puzzle was there, only to divert my attention from the mediocrefare presented. A thought further troubled me that night 8212; was all thatexpensive African glitter worth it?

I read on. The origin of the name Adulis is not known, the menu card said,for it does not seem traceable to any of the area8217;s languages. That Pliny,the Roman geographer, wrote, Adulis means the City of Free Men8217; and amonument to Ptolemy without inscription once stood in the city. Apparently,the slaves escaping from the Pharaonic Egypt passed through Adulis on theirroute to freedom. May be this freedom now stands extended to American shores, to con one into eating whatever8217;s placed before him 8212; andpay for it through the nose.