Yeshi Desta at her pop-up restaurant My Mother's Kitchen. Photo / Alex Burton
Yeshi Desta at her pop-up restaurant My Mother's Kitchen. Photo / Alex Burton
My Mother's Kitchen is an Ethiopian pop-up restaurant announcing its events - and taking catering requests - on Instagram.
What's a girl to do when stuffed with injera, but loath to see wot go to waste? "Just use your hands," an Ethiopian man, visiting from Los Angeles, advised me atan Easter banquet in Auckland last weekend.
We'd found ourselves at a table of 25 randoms, in the downtown apartment of Ethiopian chef Yeshi Desta. Lent lasts longer in the Ethiopian Orthodox Church, so Ethiopians observe Easter later than most. Thirty-nine-year-old Desta marked the occasion with friends, fans, and strangers who'd heeded her call on Instagram: "Selam Auckland food lovers! Fasika (Ethiopian Easter) is this Sunday … Come dine with me."
Her pop-up restaurant, My Mother's Kitchen, serves heady stews - called wot - to be eaten with injera, a slightly sour, spongy pancake used to transport food from communal platters to one's mouth. Feasts take place in participating eateries, at your house by request, and occasionally inside Desta's own home.
"You never know who will come, but welcoming strangers is totally natural for me," says Desta. "I am always ready with a big smile, a hug, so it feels like we're all friends of a friend."
Desta grew up in the mountains of Gondar, a castle-strewn city in northern Ethiopia. Political unrest drove her family to Sudan, from where she reached New Zealand as a refugee in her late teens. Her parents remained in Khartoum, though have since returned to Gondar. Desta visited her homeland a lot before Covid choked international travel. And she can't wait to head back in May, to hug her mum and eat the original dishes she recreates for her Auckland diners.
A traditional coffee ceremony on Yeshi Desta's balcony. Photo / Alex Burton
Ethiopian cuisine is rich and aromatic. Laden with cardamom, fenugreek, ginger, turmeric, and divinely spiced clarified butter. While all dishes are spicy, the emphasis is on flavour over heat. But beware the bright green kochkocha: a devilishly hot sauce made with jalapeno peppers. Last Sunday, across several hours, Desta and her helpers dished up rounds of doro wot (chicken meat and egg stew), tibs (spiced and fried meat - in our case lamb), a goat stew and minced beef tartare with fresh cottage cheese and collard greens. Refreshing tomato salad arrived at intervals, as did endless coils of injera. This cost $80 per person and each item on the unusually meat-centric menu was exquisite.
Yeshi Desta. Photo / Alex Burton
Desta, in purple braids and bright orange nail polish, explained her carnivorous mindset: "We have been fasting for 55 days [in Ethiopia this involves abstaining from animal products, and not eating or drinking before 3pm] - SO TODAY IS MEAT DAY!" A roar of approval rang out around the table.
The man who advised me to eat with my hands, Bemnet Kibreab, met Desta at her day job; front-of-house at XuXu Dumpling Bar. He and his 11-year-old son, Yonas, are in Auckland while Yonas stars in a Netflix series being shot here. They were homesick for Ethiopian food and somewhat surprised this city lacked even a single brick-and-mortar Ethiopian eatery. Los Angeles, in contrast, has an entire "Little Ethiopia" neighbourhood crammed with authentic restaurants, bars, and coffee shops.
Kibreab told me he was excited to meet a foodie compatriot. And touched when Desta invited him and Yonas along to her Easter banquet.
My own first My Mother's Kitchen pop-up featured tej, a sweet alcoholic beverage Desta brews herself using pinot gris, honey, and a hops-like herb called gesho. The Easter edition was BYO booze, but included a traditional coffee ceremony on Desta's balcony.
Buna are meditative affairs best held in the open air to avoid setting off smoke alarms. First, fresh green coffee beans are roasted over a camp stove in a long-handled pan. Desta then grinds the beans by hand, and funnels them into a clay coffee pot. Called a jabena, this distinctively shaped vessel has become a symbol of Ethiopia. Water is added, and boiled over the same flame that roasted the beans. The coffee is ready when bubbles threaten to erupt from the spout.
It's an incredibly fragrant process. There's the coffee aroma, of course, but also the piney scent of frankincense burning away in a little bowl of ignited charcoal and - to my surprise - popcorn. Popcorn is a traditional buna snack. So is the slightly sweet and very springy flatbread, studded with cumin seeds, called himbasha.
Yeshi Desta prepares food for friends and strangers alike at her pop-up restaurant. My Mother's Kitchen. Photo / Alex Burton
As Desta prepared coffee, guests exchanged numbers against the backdrop of Auckland skyscrapers. Strangers no more. Yonas passed around popcorn. Then a rain shower drove us back indoors, and I asked Yonas' dad how My Mother's Kitchen stacked up against LA's legion of offerings.
"It's absolutely top-notch," he replied. "And you guys are so lucky. Getting such an intimate dining experience, it's better than any place in Little Ethiopia."
