Ethiopian market, Christmas present for self, cheesecake

I was so jazzed about my injera and wat lunch earlier this week that I immediately texted Hiwot and asked if she might be remotely willing to teach me how to make injera. If so, where should I get supplies?

"I'm glad that you love my Injera, I'm totally willing to teach you how to make injera. You can find the Teff flour and the (Mitad) grill from any Ethiopian market or I can tell you the market address in Washington DC...I'll bring you some starter."

Um, yes. I am ALWAYS down for exploring a new-to-me market. Hiwot directed me to Black Lion Market on 14th St NW, certain it would have both black and ivory teff flour and the exact grill I needed to cook the injera. Can you even believe the loveliness of this woman? 

I walked in and shyly inquired about the grill, showing one employee a photograph that Hiwot had sent me. 

"Oh yes, you want this one! Also, it can help you make chapatis, tortillas, and pita." 

"Thank you! This is perfect. And do you have smaller than 42-pound bags of teff flour?"

"Now you need to talk to this woman. She knows everything about flour."

That lovely woman brought me over to smaller bags of flour, gallon-size Ziplocs of various flours individually weighed and priced, labeled in Amharic. I heaved one bag each of black and ivory teff, and also a large sack of red lentils into my arms, and placed them carefully on the counter by the register before adding a boxed grill to the mix.

A young man with a great smile walked up behind me, placed his bag of injera on the counter, saw my pile, and asked, "Are you going to make injera? Do you like it?" I was the only white shopper in Black Lion, and I am certain he wondered if I knew what I was doing. 

I smiled back and said, "I love it. My friend made me some and said she would teach me and that these items are what I need because she'll bring some starter. Isn't that cool?"

I showed him and the two women at the register my pictures of Hiwot's injera and they were very impressed.

"Oh yes, she knows what she is doing!"

Then I showed my photo of the wat I'd made. 

"You made that? Lentil wat? Good for you."

We were all smiling like crazy. I turned to the man behind me and said, "Now why aren't you making your own injera?" and grinned. He laughed and said, "Oh, I know I should! But I'm not so good at it." 

I stumbled out into a freezing day, arms and heart full. 
~~~
Winter break started yesterday after the kids finished school, and I cannot adequately express how deeply thrilled I am to have no homework to oversee for a full two weeks. Ah! Oliver spent last night at a friend's house, and Jack, T and I grilled a pizza and vegged out.

Today, the boys and I finished up one of the two epic projects we've been working on as surprise gifts for the grandparents, and I made a pumpkin cheesecake for the freezer and also a batch of rum balls. The latter gets better over time, so they'll be perfect when Mom and Dad arrive next week, and my sister, brother-in-law, and nephew, just after!

Yo! SNOB

Yesterday

Boy was I bitchtastic yesterday! There is a reason sleep-deprivation and noise are methods of torture. Throw rain and five days straight of wildly chatty kids + no babysitters into the mix, and I was ready to commit myself. I went to bed at 8:30 last night, stayed in bed until 8:30 this morning and feel loads better. Good thing too because we are having long-lost friends over for dinner tonight, and I have really been looking forward to it.

On tap are: a cheese and olive board; a leek confit and Bûcheron tart; the farro salad with beets, candied pecans, feta and chive-sage oil dressing; and a pumpkin cheesecake. It's a vegetarian feast of epic proportion- y'all should have seen T's face when I informed him of this fact. I nearly snorted, so hysterical was my response. I couldn't help it. T was an Atkins disciple before he knew what that was.

SNOB

Because I'm No-nonsense Dawg today, it is time to tell you about two folks who really stood out last week during my regular plane-mate observations. You know I simply adore studying those who are flying with me, a small yet fascinating cross-section of the world at a specific point in time.

I spent the entirety of my flight from DC to Dallas snoozing and half the leg from Dallas to Santa Fe gabbing non-stop with Lili, the Louisiana gal in my writing group. The ground we covered in 45 minutes was truly remarkable. In fact, once in NM with Laura, all Lili and I had shared became evident on a regular basis, and I dare say Laura was repeatedly stunned by the degree and depth. It just served to remind me that if you put two Southerners together in a somewhat-enclosed space, they will know everything about each other seemingly moments later. This fact always knocks the pants of Tom too: "HOW!? did you find all that out in three minutes? And why?"

All of that is a long way to say that I have zero observations from others until my return flights five days later.

Lili and I were on the same plane back to Dallas, and as it was delayed, we had ample time to study our flightmates. Only one really stood out, and this was for many, many reasons.

1. He was "smoking" an unlit cigar like he was some sort of high Prince of Land Puffery. Who does this in an airport? Why?

2. He wore a blazer (nice) with a popped collar sticking up rakishly but in an all-too-purposeful manner. Like, you know he spent a good ten in front of the mirror styling that puppy just so.

3. His glasses, quite possibly prescription-less, were clear red plastic. Chic if they were the only accessory but the cigar and collar in concert with said spectacles made the sum garishly less than its parts.

4. The pièce de résistance, though, were his shoes: black velvet smoking slippers monogrammed in gold. When I first glanced, I could only see one foot and saw SN written in shimmering thread. "Hmm, is his name Sam? That is such a nice name." Just moments later, when I spied the other shoe, I knew I had been sorely mistaken in considering the letters initials: the second shoe was emblazoned with OB.

SNOB, peeps. And not for him to read, but for all of us.

Once on the plane, Lili and I found we didn't have seats next to each other. We asked a sweet woman if she'd be willing to switch, but she said, "No, I've been here since 5am, and my first flight was canceled, and I don't want to sit in the rear of the plane." I understood completely. So, we wished her well and moved back. Not ten minutes later, she moved back to the seat in front of mine.Why? Because SNOB had the seat next to her original one and had subjected her to such pompous pontification in just fifteen minutes that she knew she couldn't stomach the whole ride.

She turned back towards us, smiled with exasperation and disbelief, and said, "Did you see his shoes?"

HAH!

Misc musings

So I'm at the hardware store earlier getting some jars which I'll fill with homemade granola for teacher gifts. Next door is The Container Store, and in the joint parking lot I spied one of the CS managers. This gal always looks faux-happy, like really, she's stressed out to beat sixty with just a hint of rage added to the mix. Is the organization too much for her? Does she hate the customers? I don't know but she seems as if her thin veneer of perk will blow at any second. Her visage never fails to remind me of a music teacher Jack and I once had in a mom-tot class. Her name was Serene which always struck me as terribly ironic because she seemed anything but. I wondered if she liked children. It is cold as get-out today, and I am giving away pumpkin cheesecake like it's my job. I don't know what to make for dinner tonight but I am certain it will involve Brussels sprouts.

Christmas is soon! In fact, it really just struck me that as we're leaving Saturday, I will have to pack in a few days. Noooo....

Do you know what sucks? Giving pills to cats. The pets saw the vet last week, and in addition to Nutmeg topping the charts of the cat obesity scale (a 9+ on a 9 scale; oops), he has some fecal thing, and so we have to give him pills for three days. Doing so is like trying to shove toothpaste back into a writhing tube (my friend Annie mentioned the toothpaste analogy recently; I loved it and added writhing here because Nutmeg writhes with the strength of a water buffalo; maybe because he's giant). Myself, I think he is wildly handsome in all his glory. But I gotta get rid of this fecal malfeasance.

Shit.