Heaven on H Street

First off, welcome to my world; it’s full of coffee and tea, so hopefully you’ll sit and stay a while. Before I start this thing up, my significant other tells me it’s important to establish that this blog is in no way, shape or form associated with Debbie — as in the Debbie who did Dallas. If you’re hoping for a follow up to that, you’re in the wrong place. Now that that’s out of the way, on to the coffee!

Labor Day Weekend — a lesson in avoiding crowds while still enjoying the city. To make the most of mine, I checked out The Washington Post’s Going Out Guide. I poured over plays and descriptions of pick-your-own farms before I finally found what I was searching for: coffee.

Sidamo Coffee & Tea sits on H Street NE, about a 15-minute walk from Union Station. The location — bordered by barred windows and across the street from a bleak-looking funeral home — is intimidating at first. But every Sunday at 2 p.m., the shop hosts a traditional Ethiopian Coffee ceremony. This event has the dual benefits of offering a glimpse outside my Western perspective and being free. With these in mind, I gathered my best friend/Partner-In-Coffee and headed down the Red Line.

Inside Sidamo, a diverse group of young men and women crowded the tiny tables, some studying (the cafe offers free WiFi), some chatting, all sipping out of ceramic mugs. Drink pricing fell on the low side of D.C. standards. I purchased a small Americano for less than $3, and my P.I.C. paid under $4 for a French Press for one. The barista directed us to a table and served the French Press on a tray with this nifty timer — perfect for assuring the right strength of the coffee or tea.

While we drank up, one of the women from behind the counter began setting up the ceremony. We saw her light a ball of something — I’m guessing incense — and put it into a ceramic bowl. A citrus-scented smoke wisped through the crowded cafe. An older couple sat down at the table behind us, and the gentleman immediately crouched closer to the ceremonial set up to see how it was done.
The proprietor set a dozen china cups on the marble table and started up a portable stove nearby. In truth, the 80s-style stove reminded me of the time my troop leader burnt the macaroni and cheese at Girl Scout Camp. Fortunately, that was the only reminder, because the aroma of the beans and the incense wiped out any thoughts of burnt food. In a tin cup, the barista roasted green coffee beans until they turned a deep brown. Before putting them in a jug of water to heat over the stove, she allowed each customer to stick their nose over the beans and take a deep whiff. She also served sweet popcorn out of a woven basket.

Each patron received their own cup of the traditional coffee. I couldn’t tell how much of this came from the incense, but like most Ethiopian coffees, it had a strong citrus-y, lemon flavor. I drank mine black, not wanting to dilute the natural taste, but I was surprised to see the woman who had performed the ceremony load her cup with half-and-half and two packets of Sugar in the Raw.

On our way out, my PIC and I noticed at Ethiopian Restaurant on the same block as Sidamo. For this and for another delicious Americano, I’m sure we will be back to H Street soon.