I first ate Ethiopian food as a freshman in college. My suite mates and I drove into San Diego to the Blue Nile Restaurant (or possibly the Red Nile Restaurant -- I went to both over the next few years, and I can't remember which was which. It was definitely some color of Nile though.) The Nile of Color was pretty authentic as far as restaurants go. Everyone who worked there was actually from Ethiopia, and it was an Ethiopian singles bar as the evening went on. The food was amazing, and I (the person who fully delights in the fact that nobody can ever make me leave California ever again) love going to Ethiopian restaurants, even to this day.
A few years ago I played floor hockey in an informal team in Sacramento and we made it a habit to go to the Ethiopian place nearby after every practice. This place was called Addis Ababa (not a Nile) which I thought was a little obvious, but I guess if you want Americans to know what type of cuisine you're serving, you don't have very many choices.
I actually tried making Ethiopian food one time (back when we used to cook for each other once a week, leading to the infamous Spikes of Death and Neopolitan Turkey Loaf meals). For the most part Ethiopian food is similar to a curry, but it's served on a pancake-like sourdough bread called injera. I knew I was going to have problems getting that right, but I found a recipe which involved using sourdough starter and letting it ferment for 48 hours.
It turns out that bread fermentation involves significant expansion. Yes, bread rises. The injera didn't just rise, it overflowed the bowl I had left it in and dripped down the wire mesh cabinet and all over the floor. Bowl propagation at its finest. (That joke's for you Rvan.) There's nothing like dried, semi-fermented sourdough mix to really make a difficult cleanup. For the record, though, in the end it tasted pretty close to what I thought it should.
Anyhow, someday I might try making it again. But this time I'll definitely use a bigger bowl.