Injera time!

Every Sunday at 5:00PM you will find our family at Ghenet, eating our favorite: veggie combo for three, sometimes with a salad, sometimes with doro wat.  Sometimes we have the most amazing cafe latte in the world afterwards, and if we haven't stuffed ourselves to the gills (which is rare), we order a tiramisu to share. Yum, um, um.

We've been eating at Ghenet every since we started down this Ethiopian adoption road, I even had a baby shower there. The first week we were home with the children we went, stumbling in with our sweaty, jet lagged, overwhelmed selves. I said, almost embarrassed, "Do you have any injera for two hungry Ethiopians?".  And thus the folks at Ghenet became our Ethiopian family, here at home.  They welcomed Daniel and Lily with open arms, offering to help find babysitters, translate, offering advice on hair and discipline.  Since that first week we have come (almost) every Sunday.

At first Daniel would shyly answer the waitresses and cook in Ahmaric. After a few weeks, we all noticed that he didn't seem to understand.  Now they are trying to teach him his country's language (with very limited success, sadly. He's more interested in learning the games on their i-phones.)   Lily walks around the restaurant like she owns it. She asks for and receives private tours of the kitchen, has long "conversations" with the dishwasher.  I'm sure the other patrons are extremely amused by her dance moves and gymnastics in the dining room.

Every week we fill ourselves up with injera, wat, Ethiopian beer, coffee and a little taste of home. Then they pack up a big bag of leftovers that sustain us for the coming week.

Traditional food: everythingis served on one big platter

Here are a couple things I've learned about Ethiopian leftovers (should you be so lucky to have some in your house.)

1. Native Ethiopians (like my son) will eat leftovers the traditional way- all mixed up into a mash and heated (one serving is piping hot in about a minute in the microwave).  He gobbles up a big bowl every day after school.

2. Injera can be dried into chips.  Just leave it out in the sun (as they do in Africa), or dry it till crispy in a warm oven.

3. Injera pizza! I take a triangle of injera, sprinkle it with berbere (Ethiopian spice mix- hot!), and some cheese and fry it in a pan with butter. YUM!

4. If you are just re-heating injera on its own, wrap it in a damp paper towel and microwave for just 10-15 seconds. It will get rubbery very quickly, so be careful.

5. Ethiopian leftovers freeze pretty well.

Baby Lily shows off her Ethiopian finest at Ghenet for New Year

Yes, Chef!

My writing has been sidetracked a bit lately due to all the reading I've been doing. (ah, summer!)  Andrew gave me the new Marcus Samuelsson book for my birthday (while we ate at his restaurant Red Rooster- ta da!)

I highly recommend it to everyone who loves:
1. Ethiopia
2. Food
3. Cooking
4. Traveling
5. All of the above

Just a few pages in his memoir Samuelsson (I call him Marcus in my head, but I'm trying to be cool here.) reflects on his adoption to Sweden from Ethiopia, and the few memories he has from his early childhood in Africa.  He jokes kindly about all the adoptive mothers who come up to him to share their children's stories.

Ahem.

Here I am, a Marcus, I mean Chef Samuelsson stalker.  When Andrew and I went to Red Rooster for our anniversary this winter the Chef was there, and graciously agreed to my request to look at photos of our kiddos.  He sat down on the booth next to me, and taking my phone from my hands scrolled through my photo album.  He asked about them, their ages, etc.  Sigh. It was a marvelous moment (for me).

There are so few Ethiopian adoptees in America, and very, very few grown up ones. I think we adoptive moms have latched onto Samuelsson as a role model for our children, and his Swedish mother as ours. In Yes, Chef he is wonderfully affirming of his adoptive family, while honest about the complications and joys of reconnecting with his Ethiopian family.  He talks about the very different memories and experiences of his sister, who was 5 years old when they moved to Sweden.  Most movingly, he reflects on the ways in which his Ethiopian, Swedish, and international travels have combined to make him who he is now: a chef and business man with a family in Harlem.

If you live in or visit New York, I highly recommend eating at the Rooster.  (You'll need to make a reservation exactly one month in advance to get a table.)  The food is interesting and delicious, the service is warm and attentive, and you never know who might come in the door.  On our first visit we ate next to a former Governor!

Of course, Samuelsson is a chef: most of the book is about food.  Food preparation, food culture, tasting, traveling, discovering food.  If you like to cook it will make you want to go shopping at a farmer's market and pull out your big pots.  If you like to eat it will make you want to explore a new neighborhood or spice family.  I've found re-newed energy for perfecting my own doro wat.

And after you eat the doro wat or catfish at the Rooster, you might as well read the book too. It will make you hungry all over again.