Sometimes it's all about making a good second impression. Not that we didn't enjoy our first stick-to-your-ribs African meal at Karibu Restaurant in Waltham. Rather, we were utterly charmed by the second. The welcome that ambushed us when we returned was so warm, so motherly, so confusing, and so filling that we weren't sure we were still in the Bay State.
While an East African music video filled the large, brightly lit space with upbeat rhythms, we followed our noses to the buffet. Though it's just a humble collection of steam tables, crock pots, and rice cookers, the flavorful stews and starchy sides ($10.50 per heaping plate) draw a steady stream of regulars, who are nearly all Ugandan expats looking for a taste of home.
Before we could peek at the day's specials, one of the very friendly women who serve the buffet put down her spoon, leapt from behind the counter, clasped my hand, and greeted me like a cherished friend.
"Hey, you came back, and you brought your friends. Thank you. Thank you," she said, hanging on. And then, like a mischievous big sister, she leaned in and whispered, "Should I bring the sambusas?"
I nodded. And she did. Eventually. But first we were told to sit down and wait before we ordered the rest of our meal from the buffet.
Sambusas ($2) are the Ugandan version of Indian samosas. At Karibu, they are crisp egg roll wrappers bulging either with ground beef or veggies, fragrant with cardamom and cumin, sweet with soft onion, and feisty with chili peppers.
They are just one example of how the Indian population of Uganda (they came with the Brits) influenced the local cuisine. Other marks they made include grilled chapati flat bread ($1.50), rice pilaf, and spicy curries.
At Karibu, they are flavors worth waiting for, and wait we did. About 15 minutes after vanishing into the kitchen, the woman returned to offer us piping hot Karibu tea ($1). Steeped with fresh ginger root and stick cinnamon, it was a warming elixir.
But our tummies rumbled as we sipped and watched regulars dig in to their meals from the buffet. Then, finally, our sambusa appetizers arrived crisp and warm. They'd made us a fresh batch.
The special (but slow) service continued throughout the evening. From the buffet we ordered sides of fluffy rice, sautéed greens, chewy chapati bread, subtle red beans, and Ugandan favorites like ugali, a dense cornmeal dumpling.
Unlike our first visit, when our full meal came from the buffet, this time we were not served the entrees we pointed at. Rather, to our surprise, our entrees emerged fresh, but pell-mell, from the kitchen. Moist, bone-in, whole steamed tilapia was excellent with the house's incendiary ground chili paste (one fish serves two to three people, and this Sunday special costs an extra $10 per fish).
Tomato and beef stew was chewy and pleasing with its smoky, pregrilled flavor. And though my order of traditional Ugandan matoke arrived well after my sides, the mash of plantain and mushrooms smothered in mildly nutty peanut sauce comforted like only a scoop of mashed potatoes and gravy usually can.
Finally, after two hours of happy chowing, we thought we were done. But we weren't. Little plates of warm vermicelli ($1) tossed in cardamom-infused coconut milk were placed before us. It was a sweet ending, and our bill was discounted by a modest amount. But what was going on?
It turns out that 10-month-old Karibu hasn't advertised outside the African community. Before they bring in everybody else, the owners want to print a menu, add a new chef, cook to order, and offer table service. So, they were practicing on us, and though it was a little chaotic, it worked.
For now though, the basic buffet offers a worthy taste of food from a world away. But owners Hassan Sekabira and Hassan Lubega are worried that, because the restaurant is a work in progress, a rush of new customers may overwhelm them, or worse, that the current setup may fail to impress. So adventurous eaters may want to walk but not run to Karibu, and, once there, keep in mind that this is an evolving eatery. Karibu means "welcome" in Swahili, and apparently these folks mean it. They just want to be sure you'll come back for that second impression.
