Saturday's intermittent rain didn't put a damper on one of the most beautiful weddings my wife and I have ever attended. Absorbed in the elegant solemnity of the moment, we sat in the sanctuary of Heinz Chapel, bathed in subdued blue light refracted through scenes from American history etched in stained glass.

Wedding guests from places as disparate as Addis Ababa and Washington, D.C., and wearing Shibshebo fabrics and designs from their native Ethiopia slipped unobtrusively into the pews, their high foreheads and supermodel good looks the surest sign that they weren't from around these parts.

Meanwhile, Kevin Bethune and Sefanit Yilma exchanged wedding vows at their place of honor in the nave. With its mix of African sensibilities and American traditionalism, their marriage ceremony represented the coming together of two great families: the Yilmas of Ethiopia and the Bethunes of Taunton, Mass.

Because the parents of the bride and the groom conducted themselves with such dignity, it was easy for the guests to imagine we were witnessing the birth of an African and African-American dynasty.

After Kevin and Sefanit were pronounced husband and wife, a trio of Ethiopian Orthodox deacons and a drummer serenaded them down the aisle. Outside, a group of Ethiopian expatriates danced in a huddle of colorful gowns, determined to ignore the light drizzle as they sang folk songs only they knew the words to.

As the wedding guests filed out of Heinz Chapel, they created another circle around the dancers, applauding their singing as the rain fell. With several hours to go before the wedding reception at the Pittsburgh Center for the Arts, I was already salivating.

Of course I was happy for my friends Kevin and Sofi on their wedding day, but it would be an understatement to say I was looking forward to the catered Ethiopian cuisine that would be served at the reception later that evening.

My wife, who likes Ethiopian cuisine as much as I do, thought my fascination with the food, however flattering, was out of proportion to the experience of enjoying a well-choreographed wedding like Kevin and Sofi's for its own sake. Where were my priorities? How many people go to weddings lusting after the food at the reception?

Ninety-nine percent of the time, I'd agree, but we're talking Ethiopian cuisine here. For years, I've harangued friends, acquaintances and anyone who would listen about the fact that Pittsburgh could never consider itself an "international" city until it had an Ethiopian restaurant.

Usually, the response to such a generality is a quizzical look followed by an incredulous "What do Ethiopians eat -- air?" This is sad confirmation of the fact that provincialism in this town can never be overestimated. People, no matter how intelligent, will say the stupidest things when it comes to Ethiopian cuisine, sight unseen.

Sefanit is one of a trio of partners in a venture they hope will put an end to stereotypical assumptions about one of the most exquisite ethnic cuisines in the world. When Abay opens its doors to the public for the first time today, Pittsburgh will have officially entered a new age of gastronomical delight.

It goes without saying that Abay is the only Ethiopian restaurant in Western Pennsylvania. Managing owner James "Jamie" Wallace, accountant Sefanit Bethune and chief chef Sergut Bekele understand that persuading diners to forgo forks and knives for injera, a crepe-like bread used for dipping and scooping, is a gamble. But it's one they're willing to take.

"I started working on the business plan when I was in-house counsel at Alcoa," Wallace said. A former corporate finance attorney for Buchanan Ingersoll, Wallace, 32, is the kind of infectiously optimistic visionary naysayers delight in beating down. Six months ago, he bought the building at 130 S. Highland Ave. and began implementing his plan. Today is the restaurant's maiden voyage.

"Abay means 'Blue Nile,' " Wallace said, referring to the legendary river with strong rapids that run through Ethiopia. The name fits.