First, when someone says “Ethiopian cuisine” there are a whole host of jokes that you might consider making, based on the terrible famines that country has suffered. I beg you not to make the wisecracks, though. Not because I am at all politically correct, but because those jokes are older than Abe Vigoda, and even older than making fun of Abe Vigoda.
On a side note, there are always situtions that inspire the same joke in peoples minds, along with a feeling that it is original. I sold shoes once, and when the fifteenth person remarked, “Hey, you are like Al Bundy,” I sliced his face open with a shoehorn. It’s so freaking annoying. Ask anyone with an unusual name how they feel about it. When people meet my girfriend (named Ildi, pronounced ILL-dee , short for Ildiko) they all say the exact same thing:
“Hilde?”
“No, Ildi. With an I.”
“Oh that’s unusual. Where is that from?”
“It’s Hungarian.”
“Are you Hungarian?”
“My father is from Hungary.”
I have heard that exact conversation 47 times since we started dating. This world contains six billion of the same people.
Oh, back to Ethiopian food. It is made with simple ingredients, so on one hand it is good for picky eaters. On the other, the entire lineup of food has a unique bitter-sour aftertaste that comes from the injera, the flatbread made from teff that acts as a plate and utensils. If you don’t like that flavor (and it made me want to rinse my mouth with lye) you are going to leave still feeling a little peckish.
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Site of the Day:The Difference Between Manhattan and Soho.