Kaffa Crossing

Tasting the kitfo raw is the ultimate barometer for the level of an Ethiopian kitchen - where the true quality of its meat and the chef's mastery in spicing are put on naked display. And Kaffa's kitfo was an adventure eater's delight. The finely chopped beef, mounded over injera next to some pleasantly bitter steamed collard greens, was so fresh it was almost like an exotic melon. Glossed to a deep ruby hue by clarified butter infused with a musky spice called "mitmita," a complex and traditional seasoning blend, each bite rang with shades of ginger, cloves, cardamom and a finishing snap of chile spice.

The mitmita comes straight from Addis Ababa, courtesy of Kebede's mom, Bogalech Tekle Selassie. Her care packages also include the "berbere" powder - another heady spice blend of slightly milder chiles, ginger, cardamom, cumin and fenugreek - a signature ingredient in most of Kaffa's dishes, including the meat sautes called tibs and the vegetarian "wot" stews. These preparations have a vaguely curried flavor that isn't far off from Indian cuisine (and Kaffa even serves some fine samosas from the Indian market next door). But what separates Kaffa from some of the city's other Ethiopian kitchens is the ability to give each dish subtly distinctive flavors and texture.

The shiro wot stew of roasted and powdered chickpeas is blended to a texture as creamy and rich as peanut butter (albeit one with an earthy kick). Onions add extra sweetness and body to the spicy red lentil puree called mesir wot, while a restrained dose of Indian curry powder accentuates the milder side of mashed yellow split peas. All are excellent in their classic form, dolloped in a pinwheel of stews atop a platter of injera bread. But Kaffa also rolls them into handy injera wrap sandwiches for the wot-to-go college crowd. A fitfit salad of chopped injera blended with chile peppers, tomatoes, lemony olive oil, and a dusting of berbere spice tasted like a cool side from an Ethiopian picnic.

Kaffa's cooked meat dishes (tibs) were slightly less distinctive than the vegetarian offerings, as most were served in a similar, albeit very tasty, tomato-based spiced butter gravy. But each was cooked with care, the tender grilled chicken ("doro") and cubed leg of lamb ("yebeg") being my favorites. Even the slightly chewier morsels of dry-sauteed beef ("derek tibs") were still notably more tender, and more intricately seasoned, than versions I'd had at other local Ethiopian restaurants.

There are no traditional Ethiopian desserts to be had here. But there's always an assortment of biscotti, muffins and vegan pastries at the front counter for the WiFi campers to nibble on. There's also a good, rich shot of organic Ethiopian espresso. Sometimes, having a cafe inside your Ethiopian restaurant can come in handy.