With a bounty of colors, flavors and textures to explore, writer Ed Placidi tells (and shows) Real Food Traveler readers what they can expect from the food in Djibouti, Africa. 

Save this article about the food in Djibouti to Pinterest to help you plan your trip. Photos by Ed Placidi. Graphic by Real Food Traveler.

  Hungry for more? Here’s Ed’s article about remote African island nations.  

Food in Djibouti: Melting-Pot Cuisine of the Horn of Africa

The small restaurant seemed as busy as a train station. Diners were swooping into La Fontaine Restaurant, in the center of Djibouti city, loudly calling out their order and getting served within several minutes. They quickly gulped down their food, eating only with their right hand, leaving a mess on the metal tables, then washed their hands (eateries typically have sinks because utensils are rarely used) and were gone. Watching the scene unfold, I continued slowly eating the strangest spaghetti plate ever.

Largely unknown Djibouti is just a speck on the huge African mainland. The trickle of visitors to this tiny land come to swim with whale sharks, explore the continent’s saltiest body of water and vast salt flats of Lake Assal, and absorb the otherworldly landscapes of remote Lake Abbe where Planet of the Apes was filmed. Travelers also discover Djibouti is a culinary crossroads of the Horn of Africa.

Sunset at Lake Abbe.

Multi-ethnic Djibouti sits among much larger neighbors and incorporates populations from each as well as indigenous Afar people. This melting-pot has significantly influenced the cuisine.  Ethiopian food is on many restaurant menus. Yemeni dishes, especially blackened fish, are popular. Djiboutians were once pastoral and nomadic like their Somali cousins, so the two cultures still savor traditional desert fare of goat, lamb and camel, along with flatbreads. The French held sway here from 1884 until independence in 1977, while adjoining areas were under the British and Italians, so Western influences have also seasoned the Djiboutian kitchen.

Skudahkharis is considered the national dish, but it’s difficult to find. The owner of Ras Dika Hotel and Restaurant, Nima, explained, “It‘s a special occasion dish and especially for the Muslim holiday of Eid al-Adha.” The traditional rice and lamb concoction melds tomatoes, onions and garlic with cumin, cayenne, cinnamon, cloves and cardamom. Prepared special for me at Das Rika, Skudahkharis is satisfying Djiboutian comfort food with a complex spice palate.

A variety of Djibouti dishes served at the Ras Dika Hotel.

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Among the national foods that are actually daily staples are fah-fah, ful, laxoox, sabaya, “perfumed” rice and the unusual Djiboutian spaghetti plates. Fah-fah is a dense vegetable soup with potatoes, carrots, cabbage and barley to thicken it. Simple, earthy and healthy, it’s a common starter.

Ful goes hand in hand with laxoox (pronounced la-hoosh).  A Djibouti staple, laxoox echoes spongey Ethiopian injera but made with wheat rather than Ethiopian teff grain. Pancake-like laxoox is also popular at breakfast topped with butter and sugar. Ful, a favorite from Egypt to the Horn of Africa, has many variations using different types of beans from kidney to fava and various ingredients such as tomatoes, parsley, lemon juice and olive oil.

Laxoox bread, left and Ful, right.

Sabaya is a one-of-a-kind street food prepared on a wok-like pan over a wood fire:  ground goat or camel meat is browned, an egg is fried on top, onions, breadcrumbs and spices added, and it’s chopped, tossed and mixed as it cooks. At the Nil Bleu Restaurant, it’s served topped with slices of banana, a splash of cream and squirts of ketchup. It’s an acquired taste.

Perfumed rice ‒ which means they add extras such as golden raisins, corn kernels, and small shreds of vegetables such as carrot and sweet peppers for color to the basmati rice ‒ is a typical accompaniment to popular entrees, whether grilled camel skewers or fish sautéed in a mild chili powder to a shimmering orangey-red color.

Western influences are common, from omelets to orders typically coming with a basket of sliced baguette. But probably the prime example is spaghetti: They love it here, but with a Djiboutian twist. The pasta, like I had at La Fontaine, is topped with a traditional meat or vegetable stew along with several extras such as salad, pickled vegetables and fries, plus a side of a piece of baked chicken or a goat-meat skewer. I sampled several of Djibouti’s bizarre spaghetti plates ‒ including a spicy Djiboutian version of a Bolognese ‒ and they were actually quite enjoyable.

Djiboutan spaghetti with meat sauce and a side of chicken at La Fontaine Restaurant.

Restaurant National-Chez Hamdani is a celebrated dining spot because it is a master at preparing Yemeni-style fish. It was arguably the tastiest dish I had in Djibouti. They take you to the back, open large refrigerators and you select the type and size of fish and pay accordingly.  I chose a grouper, they had sea bream and other varieties I couldn’t identify, usually caught that day from the local waters. They flayed my fish into a flat steak, slapped it against the wall of a very hot fire pit, baked it fast to a black crisp, sprinkled it with red pepper, and served it with a semi-sweet mokbasa sauce (a puree of dates and honey), a fiery green sauce, and a huge, crisped chapatti. It’s eaten by hand of course, tearing off the flatbread, scooping up fish and dipping it in sauce. The fish was cooked to perfection, succulent and moist, the sauces intense.

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L’Historil is one of the better restaurants in the center with a typical three-way Djiboutian menu:  traditional dishes, Western selections such as burgers and pizza, and Ethiopian plates ‒ spicy meat stews, lentil dishes and vegetable curries served atop injera.

Various dishes served on top of injera bread at L’Historil.

Ethiopian influences are everywhere because the two countries are joined at the hip: Djibouti gets electricity, water, most fruits and vegetables as well as other foods from Ethiopia, while virtually all of landlocked Ethiopia’s exports go through Djibouti. A very special culinary tradition brought to Djibouti is the Ethiopian Coffee Ceremony. I asked for a cup of coffee at my hotel and owner Nima said, “We have the best coffee you have ever had.” She said she would ring my room when it was ready.

Thirty minutes later I was experiencing the ceremony with the owner and her staff, something they do every Wednesday as part of a meeting to discuss hotel issues. Fresh roasted beans are ground, coffee is prepared, and each guest is served three small (espresso size) cups. The first is very strong, the next two progressively lighter. Myrrh incense was burning, snacks were served ‒ candy, cakes, popcorn with Turkish Delight ‒ and Ethiopian music was playing on a small blue-tooth speaker.

When Nima saw me tapping my feet to the music, she exclaimed, “Are you dancing?” Before I knew it, two of the young ladies were demonstrating an Ethiopian dance, and then I was dancing with them while Nima filmed us. It was all laughs, giggles and a very sweet, innocent time. I discovered they were speaking among themselves in Amharic, the language of their shared Ethiopian heritage ‒ and of course Ethiopia claims to be the birthplace of coffee.

One other “food” export to Djibouti from Ethiopia is chat leaves. Chat (sometimes spelled Khat or Qat) is a stimulant inducing mild euphoria that has been chewed throughout the region purportedly since ancient times. And the tradition lives on. The daily arrival of the fresh chat leaves in the middle of the day is greeted with honking horns and expectation; then the city virtually shuts down for the afternoon as the vast majority of the men and a small percentage of the women kick back to chew and enjoy their daily pastime.

Woman selling chat leaves.

While the Yemini blackened fish was a culinary highlight, what I most looked forward to was the Djiboutian sabayaad flatbread, served every morning at breakfast at the Ras Dika Hotel.  A dough of flour, water, salt, vegetable oil and honey is kneaded, rolled out and then folded several times into a square shape. It’s then fried in a skillet to crispy brown perfection outside while inside it’s layers of warm, moist dough. Nima brought butter and honey to my table and slathered them on the sabayaad, saying, “This you must try. It is a Djiboutian favorite.”  It was indescribably delicious. Sabayaad was perfect with my morning ful as well.

Breakfast served at Das Rika Hotel including sabayaad flatbread, center.

– Story and photos by Edward Placidi

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