Ethiopian Doro Wat

I’m staying with Lowell on the Isle of Wight. We met in Addis Ababa and he’s had this crazy idea to have an Ethiopian night. I’ve brought down all the ingredients I suspect he won’t have in his local co-op. This is really, really hot. I’ve warned him about this, but he says it’s what he wants. He’s very cute and he’s hard to resist. Here we go:

Berbere Spice Mix

1 tsp ground ginger

1 tsp cumin

½ tsp ground coriander

½ tsp ground black pepper

½ tsp turmeric

¼ tsp ground nutmeg

Big pinch each ground cloves, cinnamon & allspice

½ tsp ground cardamom

½ tsp fenugreek seeds

2 tbsp finely chopped onion

1 tbsp finely chopped garlic

1 tbsp salt

50g paprika

2 tbsp hot chilli powder

3-5 Tbsp oil

A splash of water to loosen it up if it needs it.

4 chicken legs & 4 chicken thighs

Juice of 3 lemons

1 tsp salt

3 tbsp butter

2 onions chopped

2 cloves garlic, chopped

15cm ginger, grated

100g tomato puree

65ml dry wine

180ml water

1x 410g can mixed vegetables

4 hard boiled eggs, shelled.

The list of spices is long, but know it’s good and from an ancient tradition. The expertise of the mix was once taken into consideration as part of the dowry. (Are you listening, Lowell?)

Ethiopiques CD goes on, fairly loud. As soon as you get into the Addis groove, mix the Berbere ingredients into a paste. Oddly it sounds like Burberry when you say it. Let me say this again, this is very hot - 2 heaped tablespoons of chilli powder: the average Schwarz jar only contains 3 or 4! You can make it milder but we are in Addis mood now. When Mahmoud Ahmed tracks appear on the CD turn the volume up!  Put the chicken in a bowl, slash with a knife and rub with the lemon juice and salt. Allow both the lemony chicken and spice paste to rest for 20 minutes. Hold Lowell close and dance with him, hips joined, to the music. There’s nothing like Ethiopian music – it’s incredibly sexy. 20 minutes will get you through a good few tracks of wax and gold.

Cook the onions in the butter until soft, and add the ginger, garlic, Berbere and tomato paste. Cook for 5 mins. This is the point of no return. Too late to ask Lowell if he’s sure, though he says he is. Pour in the wine and water and simmer another 5 mins. Wine sounds oddly un-Ethiopian, though I’ve looked up 6 different recipes for this and they all include it. Red or white seems not to matter. Pointless to suggest a wine you’ll have with dinner as this is so spicy, you won’t be able to taste it. Save it for another day. I’m sort of sure vinegar is more authentic, but as every recipe says wine, so it must be.

My first view of Addis was through thick fog. My first view of Lowell was of a cute guy, obviously English, wearing a stripy sweatshirt and holding a Penguin Classics copy of The Tales of Hoffman. Neither the sweatshirt nor the book marked him out as cool, yet there was a certain something about him…………

Thicken the sauce for 5 mins or so and add the chicken. Cook for 15 mins. Gently stir in the halved eggs and the drained can of mixed veg (should be diced carrots, peas etc.), cook for a further 15 mins. Let it rest a few minutes.

Ideally you should serve this with Injera, the fermented Ethiopian flatbread but a) you can’t easily get Tef flour to make it with and b) I don’t like it. It’s like a sour pancake though it has the most amazing wafer thin texture. I would like to learn to love it.

Instead I’m doing it with both rice and coconut chapattis as I think a little sweetness will offset the incredible heat. We’re having beer, though while it’s not remotely Ethiopian, I’m also making a sweet mango and yoghurt Lassi: Pulp from 2 mangoes, a glass of milk, twice as much yoghurt, and sugar to taste. Get it cold in the fridge and it will cool the fire.

Lowell and I (and a gorgeous guy called Tom) bought 24 hour tourist visas and hired a taxi to drive us around late-night Addis. Amazing city. We didn’t stop to eat, but having consulted six African cook books, I’m convinced this is the real thing. I had it once at the (now extinct) Africa Centre in London’s Covent Garden. It was the hottest thing I’d ever eaten. Someone ordered loads of Injera. It did seem to mop up the heat though it’s just not for me. It’s like a tablecloth- thin, soured pancake with holes in it like a crumpet and the texture of thin latex. I’m probably not doing it justice.

 So, Doro Wat. Lowell’s insistent on this being authentic but it will make him go pink and it will probably make him cry. And I’ll find it adorable. Eat slowly.