Lunch at Tana Market. Anyone who complains that Seattle lacks the sort of ethnic neighborhoods you find in L.A., New York, or San Francisco need go no further than the Central District, along a few blocks of Cherry Street between First Hill and Madrona. There, naysayers will find a concentration of Ethiopian businesses: hair salons, markets, and, most important, restaurants. Tana Market (2518 E. Cherry St.) is a hybrid of these last two–equal parts all-American mini-mart, Ethiopian grocery supplier, and restaurant offering large plates of Ethiopian dishes alongside manhole cover-sized discs of sour, crepe-like injera. Stepping into Tana Market as an obvious interloper elicits the sort of confused looks one may expect, since it seems the employees know all the regulars. There is obviously a restaurant within the market–a sort of shack in one corner decorated in faux brick paneling, a few hand-drawn pictures of Ethiopian women, and furniture that’s clearly been pulled from an old cafe, complete with coffee-cup cutouts in the back of each chair. It’s unclear whether the restaurant offers table service, or menus for that matter, so we ask at the register if we may order lunch. “We only have beef,” the young man says. We’re easy to please (and further questioning about beef what exactly seems to go nowhere), so we order the beef–spicy, please–and take a seat in the cafe chairs. When it arrives, our plate looks to be a huge pile of beef tibs, a typical Ethiopian stew made with sliced beef, onions, jalapenos, and a ton of berbere (a common Ethiopian spice mixture typically containing fenugreek, basil, garlic, ginger, and a healthy dose of heat in the form of chili peppers). We’re glad we were persuaded to order only one, since it’s clear these dishes are made for two (or four) to share–the Chinese-printed plates are more like platters, and the serving of injera is more than two people could ever finish. Even though rumor has it that the tibs is among the best in town, it’s not my favorite, as the beef is overcooked and a little too oily. But the spice is great–we could’ve handled more, but we like heat more than most.I’m having a hard time believing this is all they serve, and through a fairly awkward conversation with the guy we ordered from, I learned that they have a beefed-up menu available for dinner Thursday, Friday, and Saturday nights. During off hours, expect a single dish–likely the tibs, but my understanding is that they offer other things as well.Other than a decent meal for little cash ($13, with so much for two people that we had leftovers), the shop has a mixed assortment of gas-station staples like corn dogs and burritos incubating endlessly under a heating lamp, an aisle of bagged, boxed, and very affordably priced African spices, lentils and bags of teff flour, aspirin, Lotto tickets, Ethiopian videos, and a whole host of the worst possible American foods–Bisquick, Cheez Whiz, Corn Nuts, Ragu–that look like they’ve been sitting there so long they’re nearly archeological finds.To buy the sort of ingredients you need to whip up some tibs at home, check this place out for sure, but maybe time it on a weekend evening to take advantage of the kitchen’s extended menu if you plan dinner out there as well. Another option? Ask the kind owners where they eat: on a previous visit they guided me to Lalibela just down the street, and the food was amazing.