-reserved until december-

Zac will be out serving an important party for the special occasion of NaNoWriMo. So until December, he will not be posting any dishes during the month of November. Please enjoy the previously served dishes and feel free to encourage others to stop by as well.


Thank you to all who have subscribed so far!

Dish 5

"Come on, time for food! Time to eat, everyone! Go wash your hands," Mrs. Y calls suddenly.


 The thought of food interrupts my outrage at Susannah's revelation. I run to the nearest bathroom, completely violate my cafeteria hand washing code and hurry over to the kitchen. The table is set with a large round plate and steaming pots of veggies, rice and spicy meat stew- the traditional cuisine of Ethiopia. My favorite thing has got to be the bread called injera. It's hard to describe exactly what it is--spongy, sour, pancake-y. All I know is it's incredible and one of the few things that won't burn my tongue off.


"Always the first one at the table, Zachariah," Mrs. Y says, smiling.


I shrug and pick the seat where everything is within arm's length. The Ethiopian tradition involves everyone gathering around the plate and sharing the food. I'm very territorial, so my side of the plate disappears pretty quick.


"Adem, turn of the TV and eat!" 


"Mom, I'm coming, there's only 3 minutes left in the game!" Adem shouts back
.
Mrs. Y sighs. "And where is that girl?"


"Probably looking googly eyed at your son," I mutter under my breath.


"What's that?" Mrs. Y says.


"Uh, she's coming, I'm sure," I say, putting a napkin on my lap. I picked up the sad habit from my grandpa. He always has clean pants and I looked up to that as a kid. I'm surprised I haven't knocked  out my teeth and stuck in dentures too.
Susannah slides into the chair next to me and Adem sits down across from us.


"Everything looks so good, " Susannah says, eyeing the steaming pots.


"And it's all homemade," Adem says, spooning some yellow rice onto the injera plate.


I smile. "This one's the best, Susannah. You have to try some." I point to a small dish of dark red sauce. It's a special mixture of spices called berbere that I think would make any grown man cry in pain.
 I lean over and whisper, "Adem loves it."


Mrs. Y joins us at the table.
"I want you all to eat up, no skimping on me. You have to finish your plates.


Susannah bites her lip.
"Sure, I'll have some of that thing. And some carrots, please"


"Great!" I say, dropping some berbere next to the carrots on the injera. "If you wanna  be one of the guys, then you gotta eat like one of the guys." 


I try hard to keep a straight face. It's a lot harder than you think. I'm physically able to lie no more than three times a day without giving myself away. I'm really not fit to be evil.

Adem shrugs and spoons some of the berbere sauce onto Susannah's side of the plate.  Mrs. Y. and I pick our various vegetables and meat stews and place them in artful circles on top of the injera. My stomach growls again, so I cough to play it down.

"Everyone eat!" Mrs. Y pats me on the back. We all dig in, tearing the pieces of the injera and folding it together with our thumb and forefingers. Half the fun of eating Ethiopian food is getting your hands messy. It's more satisfying than eating hotwings. I decide I want some of the lamb stew, and scoop it up, savoring the ginger flavor in my mouth. Susannah hesitates, carefully tugging the injera like it's a piece of paper.

"It doesn't have to be perfect. Just tear it like this." Adem shows her.

Susannah giggles.

"Okay okay!" She tears the injera and scoops up a ridiculous amount of the berbere sauce. 

Susannah opens and swallows. I'm smiling like the old witch when she gives Snow White the poisoned apple. Mrs. Y quietly chews her food, her fingers curled around some injera with beans. Adem's head is turned around, craning to see the TV.

"Ohmigod." Susannah coughs. "This is really really hot." She fans herself, sticks her tongue out and starts breathing hard.

I look at her as casually as possible.

"Isn't it delicious?"

She coughs and stares at me incredulously.

"I wouldn't know since I think I burned off my tastebuds!"

Mrs. Y frowns.

" What is it? Which one did you eat?"

Susannah exhales and points a shaking finger at the dark red berbere sauce.

"This one! Ohmigod, ohmigod, can I have some water?"

Adem spins around.

"Did you see that one?" He sees Susannah's face reddening. 

"Whoa, what's wrong?" 

"Water!" Susannah squeals.

I wipe my mouth.

"Actually, water doesn't do anything for spice. You should have milk or bread. Eat some more injera."

"I'll get some milk for you, hold on, " Adem stands up and runs to the fridge. He brings back a carton of milk and fills up a glass for Susannah.

She gulps it down faster than I thought humanely possible. Did she even swallow?

Adem sits down again, his face distressed.

"Why the hell would you eat that? Do you know how incredibly hot berbere is?  I can't even handle it, and I mix it with yogurt. That's some guts, right there."

"You mean you don't love bebe-this spicy stuff?" Susannah asks, setting down the glass.

Mrs. Y laughs.

"This one is a baby. I always tell Adem to eat berbere, but he refuses. It's good for the sinuses, you know? It will burn now, but you'll feel better later. Everything just flushes." She squeezes her nose.

 "Well that's good news, 'cause cold season is coming up." I eat another fistful, this time chicken and peas. I can feel Susannah's glare emanating towards me, but I happily munch along.

We eat in silence, except for the cheering sounds of the TV and then Adem's groaning when the game's over. We finish and head back over to the living room.

"Alright, next up study session," Adem says, clapping his hands together.

Susannah tosses her head.

"Actually, I'm a little tired. I think it's better I head back."

"Aw, are you sure? Still feeling the berbere?" I say innocently as I prop my feet up on the couch.

She puts on a fake grin.

"No, I actually have some things I forgot to take care. New school stuff and all. We'll have to do this some other time"

"Oh, want me to give you ride?" Adem offers. " I feel really bad about what happened, Susannah."

"That would be wonderful! I think I'd get lost on my own!" Susannah says, beaming.

"Yeah, just give me your address and I'll put it in my GPS," he says.

"Hey,what about me?" I say, waving my hands. What are they thinking leaving me here? My plan was for her to leave us alone.

"Dude, you live like five minutes away. You can walk," Adem says, grabbing his shoes.

"Can I sit in the front this time?" Susannah says, nudging Adem.

"Sure," he says with a laugh.

"You can stay and chill if you want to, Zac. I'll take her and be back before you know it. See ya." He opens the door for Susannah.

"Bye now!" she chirps, putting her messenger bag around her shoulder.

I roll my eyes as they walk out together. God, I hope I'm not that annoying around Katie. It may look like I've lost this one, but Operation Save-Adem-from-the-Scary-Hyper-Flirty-Fake-Girl-that-I'm-So-Not-Cool-With is just getting started.

Dish 4

I'm having trouble deciding what's shorter- Susannah's attention span or my 12 year old brother's. Seriously, this girl can talk, talk, talk and I know that's what girls are genetically programmed to do, but still. I try to be polite and sit in the back with her to keep up some sort of conversation as Adem drives, but when I finally come up with something to say, she goes, "You know what else I think is weird?" I cough several times to signal Adem to drive faster. He has a Mustang for crying out loud, but he insists on being a "safe driver." Ah, youth is wasted on the young...

       We finally arrive at Adem's house in the Crystal Lakes neighborhood. Most of the popular girls at our school live around here, which kinda freaks me out. Sometimes I like to mess with them and walk down their street wearing my sloppiest outfit ever and just stand there, knowing that I am completely ruining their picture perfect exclusive paradise. 

     Sure, I don't fit into their world-- neither does the rustic lion statue in front of the gate as soon as I lean on it. I got caught taking someone's boat out on the lake that I thought was for the public and got in a tad bit of trouble for that. Nevertheless, I'm over here just as much as I am at my real house and I don't have to pay home owner's association fees and can golf whenever I want to. Win.

"Alright, everyone out," Adem says after taking five minutes to perfectly park his car against the curb.

Susannah bounds out of the car, clutching her messenger bag just as surely as she did when she walked into our psych class this afternoon. I lug my backpack out, wishing for a second that rolling backpacks were still permissible at our age.

"So what's the plan again?" I say, stepping on the cobblestone path up to the front door.

" She's here for a psychology study session," Adem says, dribbling his soccer ball.

"Right, so, that's great, but isn't your mom going to wonder how we're studying if we're watching a game? It looks more like 'hanging out' and you know what your mom thinks of you and girls 'hanging out.'"

I chuckle as Adem fumbles with his keys.

"We're studying athletic social norms and group dynamics in regards to professional soccer," Susannah says cheerily.

Touché.

Adem pushes open the door.

"Mom, I'm home!"

We step over the threshold and the smell of spices and oil creep into my nose. My stomach grumbles again. I kick off my shoes immediately and set them by the door. It's become a habit now when I come over to Adem's house to take off my shoes inside. He says it's a culture thing, but I'm sure it's better for the carpet too. Susannah slides her moccasins  next to mine.

          "Your house is so gorgeous," Susannah gushes.

          "Thanks," Adem says with a nod. The Yohanes household is simply amazing. It doesn't look like it's straight out of a Macy's catalog. It actually has a real personality  with a mix of their family's traditional Ethiopian paintings and statues with Italian style pillars and marble work. Not to sound like a HGTV nerd here, but hey, I appreciate a nicely furbished home. And a woman who can roast lamb the way it should be.

        "Adem, you're here?" Mrs. Yohanes calls while clanging sounds ensue. I lead the way to the kitchen which easily takes up half of the house's bottom floor. Adem's mom is stirring a pot on the stove, chopping onions and tomatoes and has a million other things going on at the same time. She wipes her hands on a towel and tugs her red bandana tied across her forehead.

       " Zacariah, dear, how are you doing? Always good to see you in your home. You know it's your home too, right? Our home is your home!" She breaks out a brilliant smile of perfectly white, square teeth and then hugs me. 

        "Thanks, Mrs. Yohanes. I'm fine. Thanks for asking," I say. "A little hungry, but fine."

         She lets go of me and wags her finger.

        "I know you're hungry. That's why I love you. You always come and enjoy my food and here my son always wants to go eat outside," she says.

         Adem rolls his eyes.

         "I would love to try your food. It smells wonderful," Susannah pipes up from behind me.

        "Hi, I'm Susannah. A friend of Adem's from school." She puts her hand out.

         Mrs. Yohanes studies her and then looks at Adem.

       "A friend from school? I've never heard of her before."

       "I just moved into their psychology class today and uh, we planned to have a study session today," Susannah says, bringing her hand back. " I know it's very rush-rush, but I hope it's okay with you. I'm very serious about school just like your son. I don't normally hang out during the school week."

         We all stand in awkward silence as Mrs. Yohanes's brows knit together in thought. 

        "Okay, but I want you to sit in the living room where I can see you," she says finally.

        "That's perfect, 'cause we have to watch the soccer game on TV for our assignment," Adem says, kissing his mom on the forehead.

        Mrs. Yohanes shakes her head.

        "I don't understand what they are teaching in schools these days. Not like back home..."

         We don't hear the rest of it, because Adem races over to turn on the TV. Susannah laughs and shoves me out of the kitchen. I settle down on the leather sofa as cheers roar from the screen and stacatto commentary of players I don't know and Adem pumps his fists in the air.

        "Wow, he's really into this," Susannah says, sitting cross-legged. 

        "Mhm," I say, digging through the front pouch of my backpack for some leftover candy or mints.

         "Yes, go, go! Oh my god, no why did you let it go? What was that?" Adem buries his head in his hands.
         "Did you guys see that?" 
         I nod instinctively;  Susannah laughs.
         "You know, he's kind of cute," Susannah whispers.
          "Mhm," I say again. How did I forget to restock my snack inventory? Next time, I won't pass up Mom's Costco run and think she'll get what I need. I guess I have to hold out 'til Mrs. Y is ready with lunch. Unless I go over and help her now...
         "Zac, did you hear what I just said?"
         I look up at Susannah and her ginormous brown eyes with muddy brown shadow stare back at me. And she's smiling for some reason.
         "No, sorry," I admit. I don't actually hear a lot of things girls say. Mostly because I  assume (rightly) that they aren't talking to me.
        She tucks a strand of hair behind her ear and leans closer.
       "I said, I think Adem's kind of cute."
        A part of me groans on the inside and I feel like all my surroundings are out of sync. Adem sits frozen in front of the blaring TV screen, oil sizzles while Mrs. Yohanes hums in the kitchen and Susannah is clapping eagerly, her bangles jingling incessantly in my ears. 


What a conniving little witch.