The Recipe for Holding On

     The first thing that hits me is the smell, the rich mix of spices and butter melting into a feeling that wraps around me like a blanket. My mother’s Kitfo was never just about the taste, it was a language, a way to say everything she couldn’t put into words. In our home, Kitfo was more than a meal. It was a sign that something special was happening. It looked almost magical on the plate: deep red minced beef, glowing with the golden sheen of Niter Kibbeh (Ethiopian spiced butter), sprinkled with bright orange Mitmita (Ethiopian Chili) for a kick that burned, but gently. And when she served it, it felt like she was serving up a piece of home. 

     I remember one night vividly. It was the last time I’d have Kitfo before leaving for college. I didn’t realize it then, but looking back, I see it for what it was, her way of preserving something, like she was packing away a memory I could take with me. That night, every bite tasted different. There was a tightness in my chest that I tried to swallow down with each mouthful, but the bittersweet taste lingered. It wasn’t just Kitfo on my plate; it was her love, her fear, her hope that I’d remember where I came from. 

     Now, when I try to make it on my own, it never quite tastes the same. I chop the beef, measure the spices, melt the butter following the steps exactly as she taught me but something’s missing. It’s not just the flavor I’m chasing; it’s that feeling of being wrapped up in her care, her presence in every spoonful. The Kitfo I make now is almost a ghost and a reminder of the time before I was on my own before I had to figure out how to carry home with me without my mother there. 

     It has become a way to navigate what’s been lost. It’s a reminder of the way my mother’s hands moved through the kitchen, confident and steady, never rushed. “You can’t hurry a good dish,” she’d always say. And she wasn’t just talking about Kitfo. She was telling me that some things take time, just like finding your way and like coming to terms with change. Each time I make it, it’s as if I’m trying to bridge the gap between the past and the present, between who I was then and who I am now. It’s a reminder that home isn’t a place, it’s a feeling. It’s not something you can recreate perfectly. It’s about trying, failing, and trying again each time getting a little closer, not to the taste, but to that memory, to that comfort. Because Kitfo is my mother’s way of saying, “Don’t forget where you come from. Don’t forget me.” And even though I can never make it exactly like she did, each attempt is my way of saying, “I remember. I’m holding on.” 

     I’m different now. I’m older, further away, but I’m still tied to that kitchen, still tied to her hands moving through that dish. Every time I make it, I’m holding on to more than just a recipe. I’m holding on to a piece of her, a piece of me, and a piece of home one bite at a time. 

 

 

Recipe  

Ingredients: 

1. 1 lb (500g) lean ground beef (traditionally, it’s finely minced by hand) 

1. 4 tablespoons niter kibbeh (Ethiopian spiced clarified butter) 

1. 1-2 teaspoons mitmita (Ethiopian chili powder mix) 

1. 1 teaspoon cardamom (optional) 

1. Salt  

1. Injera or kocho (Ethiopian flatbreads, for serving) 

1. Ayib (Ethiopian cottage cheese) and gomen (cooked greens),  

Instructions: 

1. Prep the Beef: 

• Use very fresh, lean beef. Finely mince or use ground beef. Traditionally, Kitfo is served raw, but you can also lightly cook it if preferred.  

1. Make the Spiced Butter (Niter Kibbeh): 

• If you don’t have niter kibbeh ready, you can make it by melting unsalted butter and simmering it with spices like garlic, ginger, cardamom, fenugreek, and turmeric. Strain the mixture to get a clear, aromatic butter. 

1. Mix the Kitfo: 

• In a small pan, melt 4 tablespoons of niter kibbeh. Do not let it brown. 

• Add the mitmita, cardamom, and salt to the butter. Stir well. 

1. Combine with Beef: 

• Place the minced or ground beef in a bowl. 

• Pour the spiced butter over the beef and mix thoroughly using a spoon or your hands. 

• Taste and adjust salt and mitmita as needed. 

1. Serve: 

• Traditionally, Kitfo is served raw, but if you prefer it slightly cooked, heat the mixture in a pan for just a minute or two until it’s warm or a little cooked. 
• Serve with injera or kocho. Pair with ayib (Ethiopian cottage cheese) and gomen (cooked greens) for a full traditional experience.