Injera and lentil wat (and a tiny Shel update)

Quick Shel update: 1) Jack's teacher was as amused by the whole situation as I was which is comforting, to say the least. 2) I have learned more about Shel than I ever expected to know. 3) When in 5th grade, Oliver will not be doing his poetry research project on Shel.
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Ok, so as y'all might know, I like to talk to people- friends, strangers, neighbors, whoever. Generally speaking, I'm a social gal. 

Also, I am the mother of sons and have a husband. Because of this, I am an almost-daily regular at the market nearest me. Because, constant, high-quantity eating. 

In any case, I have gotten to know a number of the store's employees and truly enjoy seeing them when I'm there. Last time I got one of my horrid sinus rages, Hiwot reminded me that drinking my body weight in hot water with lemon, ginger, and honey was wise. I ran and got a huge knob of ginger and later that afternoon was grateful for her advice.

The next time I saw her, I thanked her profusely, and we talked some more and then were pals. One week ago yesterday, I was at the store purchasing, among other items, some red lentils because I have been helping a friend test recipes for the cookbook she's writing. Hiwot said, "Are you making lentil soup?"

"Yes!"

"I make lentil wat and always put berbere in it."

"Is that like pili-pili from Kenya?"

"Not the same but it is a red pepper. I bring mine back from Ethiopia. Do you have any?"

"No, sadly. It sounds great."

"I'll bring you some. And my recipe."

"OMG, I will bring you some preserves."

So, we set a date, met in the check-out line at the appointed time, and exchanged goods. I made her a pear, lemon, honey, and ginger preserve (because hello, she and I met because of ginger), and she brought me a generously-filled Ziploc of berbere and her hand-written notes on lentil wat.

Powdered gold.

"Do you like injera?"

"I love it. Do you make yours with teff only or a teff-wheat blend?"

"Only teff, of course. Both black and white. Well, ivory. Have you had both injeras?"

"No, I've only had ivory. This is so cool. I had no idea there was black injera."

"I will make you some. Let's meet back here next week, same time."

People, I was overwhelmed by her generosity.

We met yesterday, and she had the most amazing, yeasty, spongy, full-of-moon-craters injera for me. THAT SHE HAD MADE JUST HOURS BEFORE! You have to have a starter and let it ferment and everything. Truly, I was and remain so deeply touched. And my inner foodie was just off her rocker.

Today for lunch, I made myself Hiwot's red lentil wat. I stood over the stove as oil and onion and berbere melded, as ginger and garlic made everything fragrant, as the lentils went in and I added water by the cupful as if I were making an African risotto. 

While it cooked I called the White House comment line and waited on hold for ten minutes. Democracy in action, y'all. And then I spoke to a lovely woman and told her how desperately worried I felt about our country. I asked her to please tell President Obama that I felt it'd be grand if he would declassify everything pertaining to Russia's hacking of the DNC, DNCC, Hillary, Bernie, everything BEFORE the electors place their final votes on December 19. It won't change the outcome but we all deserve to be as fully informed as possible. 

And she thanked me for calling, and I thanked her for answering, and we hung up and I burst into tears because this country and Trump's buffet of unqualified Cabinet choices and Aleppo. But then the wat was done and Hiwot's injera was waiting, and I had the most magnificent, beautiful lunch I've had in a while.

I sat in silence and gratitude, thinking of all the beautiful difference in this world. Of cuisines and people and names and places of birth, and how so often when we come together in compassionate, generous, curious, lovely ways, we are all strengthened and made better.