it’s all about texture, texture, texture.

i’ll say it now, because i didn’t say it then. i don’t like ethiopian food. i went in part to be open-minded and in part because i didn’t want to miss out. my god voice told me not to go. i went anyway.

dear lord. i couldn’t hear/talk to the birthday boy because he was all the way at the other end of the table, but primarily because they had this jazz band in the corner of the room which was ridiculously loud for the small restaurant space. i’m eating ethiopian food, right? i’m not in a bar. so, i shouldn’t have to be raising my voice to have a normal conversation.

and the sponginess. you eat ethiopian with your hands, which in all honesty, i have no problem with. bring it on. but the bread (?) you eat the food with is … well, like a sponge. it even references sponginess on the menu. i couldn’t hack it. naan? delightful. pita? lovely. flatbread? delicious. this stuff was horrible. but, i wanted to give it a fair shot, so i grabbed hunks of meat with it and put it in my mouth.

at one point, i was holding the horrible item and just looked at my friends and said, “i feel so unmanageable.” what i WANTED to say was ‘this is horrible and i can barely make myself eat it and i want a fork.’ our friends who came a little later just flat out asked for forks. fucking assholes taking care of themselves!

so yeah. i spent way too much money than i should have on a meal i didn’t enjoy. not anyone’s fault but my own. also sad because i didn’t even get a chance to chat up the birthday boy. blah.

what was reedeming was walking out to find that some of my compadres felt similar to me with the sponginess gross out. oh well. time for bed.


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