Ghion Cultural Hall

1821 2nd Ave N, Birmingham, AL 35203

 

 

 

 

After the success of its parent location in Atlanta, Ghion Cultural Hall spread west, capitalizing on Birmingham’s emerging food scene and diverse population. Tucked away in a back corner of the Pizitz Food Hall, Ghion now proudly serves Alabama’s only authentic Ethiopian cuisine. The owner and head chef, Amanshwa Takele, grew up in Addis Ababa, where his family owns multiple restaurants. Takele’s love for his country’s traditional cuisine, he says, blossomed in these local eateries, and he eventually gained enough experience to continue the family business in America. His first restaurant opened in 2007 in Atlanta, where it gradually gained popularity among both the local and immigrant community.

 

Traditionally, the East African nation of Ethiopia subsists largely on leafy greens and vegetables, red meat cooked into wat, a thick stew, and injera, a thin sourdough bread that serves as both sustenance and utensil. Dishes are often moderately spicy, a result of traditional spice blends such as berbere and mitmita, as well as niter kibbeh, a purified butter infused with a variety of other spices. While some native to East Africa do frequent the Birmingham location, many of its patrons are new to the cuisine. The chef and staff all say that they thoroughly enjoy teaching first timers about the food they serve. At Ghion, Takele successfully balances his home country’s traditional flavors and unique eating style with Birmingham’s budding entrance into the modern food scene to create a flavorful, educational experience.

 

Upon entry, the many other smells that permeate throughout the Pizitz Food Hall disintegrate and give way to the piquant, sharp aromas that are unmistakably Ethiopian. The spices waft straight from the open kitchen and into your nose, clearing sinuses and sharpening senses along the way. After recovering from the barrage of fragrances, you’ll notice the colorful imagery painted in individual sections on the walls, each of which contains a scene that you might find in Ethiopia. Families dressed in traditional garb leaning over an open flame and dark skillet. Men and women partaking in a coffee ceremony, a classic Ethiopian ritual that Ghion successfully recreates in both taste and fashion. All of these murals are illuminated by clear, white lights the shine from the ceiling and reflect off the floor, creating a bright, vibrant space that blends modern architectural creation with the colorful imagery of contemporary Ethiopia. The rigid, cowhide chairs and thatched tablestands complete the space, coming together to make the restaurant perfect for a casual dinner, a unique lunch break, or even an adventurous date.

 

 

As you enter Ghion’s niche, a friendly (though perhaps overly eager) smile is there to greet you. Once seated, a waiter or waitress with dark skin and mild accent offer what I found to be the perfect amount of conversational interaction (almost none) and the expected level of actual service. Our waiter, a slim, courteous man with presumably Ethiopian roots took only our drink and meal orders, but was there also to replenish the injera bread/utensil and serve an Ethiopian-ish, post meal coffee. The accent didn’t hurt the impression of authenticity, either; this is America, after all. Later, the manager came to ask about our dinner, explaining what each glob of stew or vegetable was that circled around our small bowl of traditional dora wat. Even the seasoned traveler who dined with us couldn’t identify every dish on the $45 sampler platter.

 

 

All in all, eleven globs, all of varying colors and consistencies, surrounded the thick, brown dora wat in the center. Directly in front of me sat a healthy dollop of yellow mush that turned out to be smashed chickpeas, mild and soft. Some piles over, a medley of spicy green peppers, thinly sliced purple onions, and spicy beef tibs. Across the round surface, a similar dish, prepared with less spice to complement the lean lamb with which it was served. Moving counterclockwise, approaching three o’clock, thick cuts of sweet cabbage blended with sliced carrots. Piled high maybe sixty degrees in the negative direction, a thicker, pastier, roux-like substance cooked with beef. Under all of this food, we later discovered, was a round slab of spongy injera, perhaps 20 inches wide, that had been soaking up the undulating flavors of each individual dish as it was being consumed. After some 45 minutes of going around the thatched tablestand, we gave up. What had been a beautiful array of Ethiopian cuisine not long before was now a blended pile of discarded mush. It still smelled fantastic.

 

Remnants of the devoured meal lingered. Every few moments, a spicy wave would roll form the back of the throat to the tip of the tongue. We sat wondering how we’d make it home with our stomachs so full, only to have the answer served to us in a traditional ceramic jug a few minutes later. Coffee is an Ethiopian staple, and is served in a ceremonious ritual that signifies the upmost respect and hospitality. Traditionally, the host will burn incense and waft the fresh coffee and burning embers towards the guest. While no fresh coffee branches were wafted in our faces, the waiter did light incense, and the seasoned traveler who ate with us was taken back to his time in Ethiopia a few short months ago. The coffee itself was rich. Very rich. We drank slowly from small cups, every sip bringing us out of our food-induced rut. It took no time at all for the coffee to take effect, and sufficiently satisfied, we left.

 

Eating at a restaurant like Ghion is more than just a meal. It’s an experience. To those less open to the foreign, stick with your cheeseburgers. This place isn’t for you. Otherwise, get ready to dive into a world full of culinary adventure. Pinching injera and tasting new flavors opens up a whole new culture that many Americans would otherwise never get to know. To any open-minded individual who is eager to try new things, I would definitely recommend Ghion.