#zagol

[paulpingminho]

[wally-b-feed]

Anthony Fineran (B 1981), Zagol Artog, 2022

[paulpingminho]

[imnotafiend]

Zagol, Burjuman

Words by Kamal

The first I had heard about Zagol was from a man called Johnny who visited the shop I work at. He told me that he runs a music therapy program called ‘Johnny’s Magical Music Tour’ and that he has travelled the world on his magical tour, sampling different ethnic cuisines along the way. Ethnic foods you say, tell us more Johneh! We ended up talking extensively about the different cuisines one can stumble upon in Dubai, and how one place in particular had struck a chord with him - that place was Zagol. 

He encouraged me to go, telling me that this Ethiopian joint is so small and cosy, you feel like you’re in someone’s living room and that the food they serve is both authentic and delicious. The closest food I’ve had to Ethiopian was back when I was living in London. A 10 minute walk from my house in Brixton was a Eritrean restaurant called Asmara that I used to visit regularly. Eritrean food is quite similar to Ethiopian, in that they both adorn their food on a sponge-like sour flatbread called injera, layering many different wet and dry samplers which you mix and match, scooping it all up with the bread. We were suddenly getting really excited to try this place out, that very weekend we go for it! 

Johnny had made me a little map on a piece of tissue on how to find the place and it turned out to be much needed, this place is hard to find! We searched far and wide in the little roads tucked away behind various hotels in Burjuman until finally finding it after about a half hour search. 

As you open the door you are greeted into a small room with just four woven wicker tables - known as mesabs, clusters of wooden cushioned stools, and against the wall cushioned seating. The walls decorated with various woven baskets, traditional ornaments, clothes, shoes, and even kitchen equipment. It feels more homey than tacky though, and the embroidered fabrics of all colours add a real comforting touch. 

On the table opposite us sits a pimp and his two associates, one of which on occasion gets up to expose the biggest booty I have ever laid eyes on. Next to them, a group of old men drinking strong coffee and probably talking politics, and behind them three friends chatting over shared food and laughter. The whole environment is felt; it feels like we have been transported all the way to Addis Ababa and it was this very moment that I remembered the possibilities of food creating a strong cultural impact.   

We picked up the menu only to be confronted by an ancient language completely foreign to us. We did the logical and took the waitress' suggestions to get the ‘Zagol Special’ platter, with a dry fried beef dish on the side. We kind of had no idea what was going to come out to us but we liked the anticipation and had full trust that it would be amazing.

While we wait for the food, our ears are being delighted to the grand sounds of Ethiopian music being played quietly from the small TV above the counter, switched on is a music channel. Now I’m a big fan of Ethiopian music, particularly the jazz; legendary masters like Malatu Ashtake and Girma Bèyènè were a gateway into the music for me and it’s a journey I have continued since.

While rummaging through the overwhelmingly brilliant website Awesome Tapes from Africa I’ve stumbled upon countless numbers of rare Ethiopian music depicting repetitive beats, hypnotic melodies dragging you back and forth and the beautiful, strong, wailing voices of singers carrying on the spirit of their ancestors. Though the music is being played quietly in the background, it's function is certain, as a homage to the restaurant’s identity - no Ke$ha here fella's, just good old fashioned Ethio-jazz. 

The food comes out in a large tray placed onto our perfectly sized table, the tray covered in a huge pile of injera, and with various dishes dolloped on top around the platter, with rolled up injera interspersed between to rip up and scoop the goop with. What a beauty! 

The various stews piled onto the injera platter include doro wat – chicken in a buttery, spicy sauce with a whole boiled egg; lamb tibs – a similarly comforting pile of warm, saucy meat, heavy on the ginger and peanut oil; minchat – homey stewed beef in a thick gravy of cardamom, turmeric, peppers and garlic. A sour dollop of iab, a close relative of cottage cheese, sits in the middle, bringing a welcome element of sharp acidity. The dried beef dish, served in a clay bowl with onions, tomatoes, and peppers, turns out to be the best of the lot. We soon found ourselves scavenging for those juicy little nuggets of hot, salty fat still attached.

The natural way to eat Ethiopian food is communally, in fact there is no other way. There is no concept of ordering a meal all to yourself. You order for the table, for your friends. You share everything. And when you eat like this, you realise what a sad thing it really is, that western tradition of the lone plate of food, fiercely protected from invaders. That tradition of sitting so formally opposite and separate from your fellow diners, alone with your meal, rather than sharing the food experience all together.

Now something I have to mention is that the team here is tiny, theres like 5 people who work here in total and only one host/server/phone hotline who many refer to as the 'mother'. This all means that service is going to take a long time. Not that it matters though. Time goes by gently and slowly here; the atmosphere drags you down into a strong sense of calm. You watch everyone around you, take in the incense from afar, and patiently wait for your meal.

The meal is finished with an ordering of Ethiopian coffee, an experience that I would suggest going to Zagol solely for. Coffee plays a fundamental role in Ethiopia, a staple to everyday life. Green coffee beans are roasted upon coal lit flames where they are then to be ground labour-intensively through a wooden pestle and mortar. The way it is served is the same as how it has been through the ages. 

In what is called the coffee ceremony, thick black coffee is served along a tray containing burning incense called dabqaad. As the scents waft through the air, deep into your nostrils, you get two sensations as you drink your coffee: smell and taste. It’s an overwhelming experience, but an enjoyable one – conjuring up all kinds of images while you drink. The coffee, of course, tastes incredible. 

It is often said that life on earth started in Ethiopia, the very idea bringing a great deal of ancestral and sacred imagery to mind. Finding a place like Zagol is as refreshing as it is enlightening. It’s the whole package - the full experience of senses; from taste and sound to vision and scent. Through the genuine environment they have created, I have been submerged into an education of foreign customs and explorative knowledge. I learned more about Ethiopia in this one outing then I have in my whole life, and I think that justifies what an eatery should strive for.