For me, China Bar and Restaurant was more than just a place to eat; it was a refuge. I would often spend hours there reading or working and find respite from the urban hullaballoo in the serenity of its luxurious surroundings. About a month ago, as I was halfway through my meal, the current owner shared the news that shook me to my core. At first, I struggled to believe it. How could an establishment with such a rich history simply close? Yet, as the reality sank in, I was filled with a profound sense of loss. This was not just the end of a restaurant; it was the erasure of a landmark from Addis Abeba’s culinary map.

My mind raced through memories of the past: an unforgettable date with a sweetheart, a welcoming dinner I hosted for Togolese friends, and the countless solitary meals where I found solace in a cup of green tea. One memory stood out vividly, a stainless steel fork the restaurant once included in a takeaway order instead of a plastic one. It sat in my car’s glove compartment for months until I returned it and was met with a gesture I will never forget. The young hostess, with a smile, told me to keep it as a reminder to always come back. I had a discussion with the owning couple to grant my wish of having a China porcelain plate and a teapot as memorabilia of the iconic restaurant. The memories I had from over the years will never fade away and keepsakes are the best way to keep them alive.

Of all the dishes on the menu, the most unforgettable was the “Devil’s Soup,” a rich concoction of vegetables, spices, minced cutlets of chicken, and a secret ingredient the chef kept secret. It was a reliable remedy for cold and flu symptoms, reminiscent of Japanese ramen in both its heartiness and comforting qualities. Despite its eerie name, the soup was beloved by many patrons. The restaurant preserved its original recipes and traditions over the years, ensuring that familiar flavours always welcomed returning customers.

It’s hard to express how deeply the closure of this restaurant affects me. Passing by the now-vacant restaurant space, I witness the destruction of something once vibrant. Seeing the restaurant’s empty shell now brings a pang of sadness. The once-luxurious interior, adorned with crafted woodwork, velvety curtains, and intricate lighting, is being dismantled by workmen repurposing the facility. I really hope and trust the restaurant will find a new location and continue its proud legacy. Building such a reputation takes a long while, and it is not easily replaced. Institutions like Sishu Burger have successfully relocated and thrived after leaving their original sites. Much as spaces occupied for long hold memories difficult to let go of, the essence of a restaurant lies in the people who create and sustain it. I hold out hope that one day, the chic restaurant that defined fine dining in Addis will reopen in another location and beckon its loyal niche clientele to its embrace.

PUBLISHED ON Mar 09, 2025 [ VOL 25 , NO 1297]

Fortune Staff Writer

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