Home is Home
An L.A. restaurant where refugee chefs share their favorite flavors and their untold stories.
By Omnia Saed
Photos by Kell Lorenz
Prop styling by Ruth Kim
Food styling by Christiane Hur
Cooking is an act of personal empowerment and an expression of communal love. Few dishes reflect this better than rice and beans, a simple staple combination with a plethora of cultural ties. At Flavors from Afar in L.A.’s East Hollywood neighborhood, this spirit comes to life as a culinary collective of refugees from all over the world collaborate to create unique menus and immersive five-course meals for the restaurant’s pop-up dinners. It’s where chefs share their versions of home—be it Lebanon, Haiti, Iran, Eritrea, or elsewhere—often through something as universally comforting as their take on rice and beans.
Meymuna Hussein-Cattan and her mother, Owliya Dima, are Ethiopian refugees who founded Flavors from Afar in partnership with the Tiyya Foundation, a Los Angeles–based community development initiative for refugees and immigrants. “I always felt like the kitchen was where my mom truly shined, but when immigrant women found jobs, they were usually stuck cooking someone else’s recipes, working in the back,” Meymuna says. “I wanted to create a space where they were front and center, where they were celebrated, teaching us their dishes, and we were the ones adapting, not the other way around.”
Since its opening in 2020, the restaurant has been an undeniable success: For the past two years, Flavors from Afar has earned the prestigious Michelin Bib Gourmand designation. We spoke with two of its chefs, who also share their unique rice and beans recipes with us—each one a personal reflection of their journey, from the home they left to the one they’ve made.
Chef
Menal Kidane
During the Eritrean-Ethiopian war, a conflict that claimed her father’s life, Menal Kidane fled Eritrea to Sudan to avoid being drafted. When she arrived, she hosted tea ceremonies in Khartoum as a means of financial survival. Eventually, the opportunity to come to the United States presented itself, but it came with its own challenges—including a treacherous journey on foot from Brazil. Through it all, food became a lifeline, a way to reclaim her independence and identity in a foreign land. “I love playing with color,” she says, pointing to the vibrant ingredients that bring her dishes to life: green cabbages, yellow bell peppers, and bold red berbere tomato sauce. For Menal, cooking is more than just sustenance—it’s a manifestation of her spirit, shaped by hardship and loss.
“When you grow up like this, the more connected you feel to your body, the more you love to cook,” she reflects. “I wish I could’ve gone to school or had more opportunities, but I’m proud of the skills I’ve learned. Maybe one day I’ll open my own restaurant.”
The 39-year-old chef still feels a deep connection to home. In Asmara, Eritrea, food is woven into the fabric of life, and Menal’s rich stews stay true to tradition, including her take on adas—a dish enjoyed by everyone, regardless of background.
“I don’t want to change it too much; I still want to preserve my culture and identity,” she says. But as with all her dishes, it’s not truly Menal’s without a splash of color, so she serves it alongside vividly hued vegetables and soft, spongy injera. “Home is home,” she says. “I will never change my culture, my traditions, my family, or where I grew up. Everything about my home is always within reach.”
@jebenajoycafe
Jebena Joy Cafe
When she’s not in the kitchen, Menal brings the magic and careful artistry of traditional Eritrean coffee to her community through Jebena Joy Cafe. It’s an experience that engages all of your senses. Incense is lit, popcorn is popped, the kolo and chin chin are laid out in front of you. She begins the ceremony by slowly roasting the coffee beans, which takes about 15 minutes. Coffee isn’t a rushed ritual in Eritrea, Menal explains; it is a ceremony—an occasion to sit, relax, and take some time. After roasting, she grinds the beans and begins to brew the coffee, which is served in three batches, each less strong than the one before it. Every espresso-size cup is lightly sweetened with sugar and Menal’s special ingredient: grated ginger, a lovely surprise.
As she prepares the coffee, Menal shares her refugee and immigration story, as well as the history of the coffee ceremony. As you munch away on popcorn and chin chin, taking sips of coffee in between, Menal recalls her mother making a separate batch of popcorn and sending a young Menal and her brothers away so that her mother and the aunties could sit and chat (and gossip). This manner of having coffee allows you to truly appreciate the ritual, savoring the taste, the time, and the company sitting next to you. With Jebena Joy Cafe, sitting in the company of Menal is a joy.
— Omnia Saed and Caroline Hwang
Serves 2-4
Eritrean Adas
Ingredients
1 cup / 200 g lentils, green or brown
1 cup / 190 g rice, basmati or long-grain
2 Tbsp. vegetable oil
1 medium onion, finely chopped
2 cloves garlic, minced
1 tsp. ground turmeric
1 Tbsp. berbere, optional for heat
Salt to taste
3 cups / 720 ml water
Niter kibbeh (spiced butter) or olive oil for serving
Instructions
Rinse the lentils and rice, separately, under cold water.
In a large pot, heat the vegetable oil over medium heat. Add the chopped onion and sauté until soft and translucent.
Add the minced garlic and cook for another minute until fragrant.
Stir in the turmeric and berbere (if using), and cook for about 30 seconds to release the flavors.
Add the lentils to the pot, followed by 2 cups / 480 ml of water. Bring to a boil, then reduce heat and simmer for about 15 minutes.
Add the rice and the remaining 1 cup / 240 ml of water to the pot. Season with salt.
Cover the pot and let the mixture simmer on low heat for about 20 minutes, or until the rice and lentils are fully cooked and the water is absorbed.
Fluff the rice and lentils with a fork. Serve hot, with a drizzle of niter kibbeh or olive oil on top.
Chef
Maria Yvette Winter
Home has taken many forms for Maria Yvette Winter. Born in the Democratic Republic of Congo, she left for France as a child refugee, then Finland, and finally the United States. For her, defining “home” is complex, layered, and often challenging. But over time, it has come to be defined by flavor. Her cooking is a blend of the places she’s lived and the people she’s encountered along the way. “Congolese cooking with a twist,” she says with a smile.
“When I came to the United States, I asked myself, ‘How can I hold on to my culture?’ And I realized it was through food and through clothes.” Her flavors, like her garments, are bold, defiant, and graceful. “It’s not European, but it’s not exactly my mom’s cooking, either,” she says with a laugh. “She always complains I don’t use enough oil.” But the beauty of Maria Yvette’s dishes lies in the way they are entirely her own, a shaping of tradition and communication of care she hopes to pass down. “Being in the kitchen feels like I’m making something with love for my kids to eat,” she says.
When we meet in July, Maria Yvette is nine months pregnant with her fourth child, yet she’s still on her feet, cooking in kitchens and even leading her debut dinner for Flavors from Afar. One of her signature dishes, pondu ya madesu, is a recipe passed down by the women in her family. This rich Congolese stew, made with pinto beans, palm oil, and grilled onions, is a household staple. Traditionally, it’s not served with rice—a luxury in many homes—but with fufu, made from pounded cassava, yams, or plantains. “I love cooking, and whenever I have guests, it’s the first dish I make. It’s easy to prepare and always so delicious,” she says. In Maria Yvette’s kitchen, home is never lost—it’s continually reimagined. Her version of pondu ya madesu serves as a reminder that home always finds its way back.
pilipilidecongo.com
Pili Pili de Congo
Maria Yvette’s journey into Congolese cooking began with pili pili—a hot sauce typically made with peri peri peppers, which grow wild in parts of Africa—something she made to easily bring a taste of home wherever she went. Her version (dubbed Pili Pili de Congo and sold online) comes from a generations-old family recipe. The result is an electric orange relish with a habanero base and a hint of sweetness. Pili pili, playfully referred to as the “wasabi of Congo,” is still the ingredient she’s most passionate about, insisting its bright, spicy flavor makes any meal better, even—especially—rice and beans.
— Omnia Saed and Caroline Hwang
Serves 8-10
Pondu ya Madesu
Ingredients
½ of a globe eggplant, roughly chopped
1 small zucchini, roughly chopped
4 green onions, roughly chopped
1 24-oz. / 680-g package cassava leaf (thawed, typically sold frozen)
1 Tbsp. salt
5 Tbsp. plus 1 cup / 240 ml palm oil, divided
4 15-oz. cans of kidney or pinto beans
Instructions
Pulse eggplant, zucchini, and green onions in a food processor until minced.
Put the cassava leaf in a large pot, cover with an inch of water, and bring to a boil.
Add the minced vegetables and salt to the pot; bring water level back to an inch above contents. Drizzle the 5 tablespoons of oil over the mixture and cover.
Cook at a medium boil for about 2 hours; add water throughout so it does not dry out.
After about 2 hours, add beans. Reduce heat and simmer for about 1 hour.
Heat 1 cup of palm oil in a small pot, then slowly stream in the hot oil to the mixture and stir until combined.
Serve immediately with fufu or rice.
