Ras Plant Based
Between the both of us we ordered both the Piassa and Mercato platters. All delicious, complementary, and tough to pick a favorite. — Ras Plant Based
Let me just say this upfront: We have been sleeping on Ethiopian food for far too long. For that matter, we have been neglecting almost all cuisines to come out of Africa. While Italian restaurants run rampant across the tri-state (and that’s not to be critical of the food, just that we’ve been there, done that before) there are hot platters of incredible dishes just waiting to be eaten. There is literally a type of peanut stew called maafe that is a staple food in Western Africa. How white people aren’t talking about this is beyond me.
But for now let’s curb the ranting (we can save that for the future) and instead focus our energy on raving. And oh how Ras Plant Based makes me want to rave.
Founded by Romeo and Milka Regalli, Ras opened on March 7, 2020. In spite of the complications that the ensuing pandemic would create, the restaurant has gone on to prosper, and to date is a wildly popular location this side of Brooklyn. As, in their own words “a place where modern meets traditional to create exceptional cuisine,” Ras certainly delivers on the sentiment.
When I first moved to the area, having immediately conducted an obligatory search of all of the noteworthy eateries within an x-mile radius, Ras was the one that jumped to the top of my list. And if the name wasn’t indicative, did I mention that all of the food is vegan? You really couldn’t make it more of a hipster haven if you tried. As someone who is unabashedly one such hipster, a diehard foodie and whatever other kitschy labels catch your fancy, you already had me at “Ethiopian food.” The rest is just icing on the proverbial coconut cake (which we’ll get to).
My roommate and I had the pleasure of getting seated on a Friday night, which was really quite a feat of luck, given that excited parties of our to-be-seated contemporaries rounded out past the front door. For a party of two, there happened to have just been an opening seated at the bar. From the bar perspective, things were pretty lively. Three bartenders/servers/friends if they were kind enough to consider hanging out post-shift (no I did not actually ask) tended to the counter, each with a respective station, fridge, and seemingly dual-wielded cocktail shakers at all times. How they were able to manage taking orders for drinks, making said drinks, putting in food orders to the kitchen as well as clean up and small talk is beyond me, but mighty impressive. Needless to say, we left a good tip.
The best name that I could come up with was “Brushfire Beach.” What would you name it?
Part of the restaurant’s modern aesthetic and charm is that the signature cocktails are just as impressive as everything else. Honestly, I’d call what I had pretty phenomenal. Maybe that’s just sugar. But for my money I tasted some real layers to my drink.
The drink in question that I ordered didn’t even have a name yet (it’s called ”You Name It” on the menu). I don’t care whether they’re actually struggling to capture its essence or not (other drinks have cute titles like Fig Fig Bang Bang, so nothing too crazy), the thing was awesome. With notes of smoky mezcal and a perfect amount of tropical sweetness that cut through any sort of burn from the alcohol, I’m sitting here wondering how I can convince someone at the bar to make me a pitcher.
They’re even running a little contest to figure out the drink’s name. It’s fun, great word-of-mouth marketing as far as I’m concerned, and now I’m already set up to be mad once someone else wins. But who knows? I submitted an entry. How could I NOT.
Now for the food itself. I can’t believe I’ve gone on this long without talking about it in detail. Shame on me.
If there’s one thing that you need to know about Ethiopian restaurants it’s the following word: injera. Injera is a sourdough of sorts, traditionally made from just teff flour and water. Like any starters that you might have taken up making at home in these past few years, the secret ingredient and the most crucial to the process is time (not the herb). Time at rest allows for the simple batter to ferment, which is where all of the natural complexities and flavor come from. After the first batch of injera, a portion of naturally-formed yeast will be created. In the case of making injera, this is called ersho. The ersho from the first batch is added to subsequent batches, making each a step more flavorful and complex than the previous. It’s a beautiful thing, really.
Upon fermentation the injera batter is spread thin and cooked on a griddle (think like a crepe), taking on its final appearance and distinctly porous, spongy texture and accompanying tangy taste. Like rice in Asia and bread in Europe, injera is an essential part of the meal. It acts as a platter to eat from, doubling as a means of delivering any array of mouthwatering stews to your mouth. All that you have to do is tear off a piece and pinch whatever bite you’re going for between your fingers. Feel free to get messy! You’ll find yourself licking the sauces and seasonings off your hands anyway. Well, if you’re me anyhow.
I find that the best way to explore a cuisine (particularly if you’re new to it and adventurous) is to dive in with a sampling platter, as you’re going to experience the full gradient of culinary excellence but also not have to commit to a single dish. In my case, I’ve been enlightened to the beauties of Ethiopian staples, tibs, yatakilt and the like (though the previous restaurants I’d been to did serve meat), and am ever-awaiting the way that their flavors and juices soak up into the sponge of the injera. No, this was to act as an introduction for my roommate. Given the sounds that came out of his mouth (none of which I will be recapturing here in text), I’d say that he enjoyed the experience.
Though I never had any doubts as to what depth of flavor one could get from meatless dishes, I’m nevertheless impressed at the layers of sweet, savory, spiced flavors that I had the pleasure of getting lost in. I’m looking forward to getting to the rest of the menu the next time that I stop by. We’ll see if the mushroom tibs can wane me off of my love for the traditional meat-based version of the dish.
Coconut Leche (left) and Rawfee (right). Sweet and refreshing, berries on top.
Oh, and they have a dessert menu too. Acting as a nice cap to our experience, the cashew and coconut-based slices of cake (and though not described as such I get the feeling that all of the desserts are secretly just cakes) were a smooth way to close out the evening. Both were cold to the touch, so I’d presume that they had come out of a freezer, but given their composition and the texture that that slight ice-tinged bite provided, I’m pretty sure that this was intentional. Both the Coconut Leche and Rawfee cakes were delicious. Also, they were Gluten-free. And soy-free. And Kosher. Because of course they were. Is it considered showing off if it tastes so good?
So in case there are any doubts regarding my position, let me just reiterate and say that Ras Plant Based is a pretty cool establishment. It’s the kind of place that makes me happy to have moved here, and it only makes me excited to come back, knowing what menu items there are still left to try. Until next time, Ras. Don’t wait for me. I’m already on my way.
And to everyone else out there: It’s time to wake up.
