This post has it all. Spicy food, not so spicy food, action, adventure, love, hate, and an embarrassing near death experience. So Sunday night was Eritrean slash Ethiopian night. So, we rounded up some peeps and headed out to my favie spot in the Inner Sunset, New Eritrea, for a fine meal of food. Who knew it could be my last. Excited yet? Let me just say, we put a huge fucking dent in that menu up yo! We started off like serious ballers, and had all three of the Sambusas, a ground beef, a lentil and a veggie. A Sambusa is basically pretty similar in concept to any of your 'egg roll-esque, Samosa-y' deep fried appetizers. The nice thing about these is that they come in a non spicy format, but as if they knew me they included a yummy, spicy vat of Harissa on the side. Oh red chili paste how I adore thee. Next came a ton of food whose names escape me at this moment, but for those unfamiliar with the format of consumption in Ethiopia and Eritrea, all the food is pretty much a stew and is served on top of a giant sour pancake called, Injera, family style. You take a pinch of the Injera and use that as an unleavened utensil. Most of the food was fairly mild, as I was in such company that that was of crucial importance. However, I did order a spoiler, a beast of a beefy dish called Gored Gored, which sounds like the name of a really sweet god of war type deity from Conan. I needed the hot n' spicy on this night, but it would be my undoing as you will soon find out. Gored Gored is basically chunks of steak in a spicy Harissa laden butter sauce. Unfortunately, they brought it out on the same plate as the other dishes and it's spicy, rouge-y, delicio-city was constantly mounting cross border assaults into the completely unaware chicken dish on the left. It was like watching Hitler invade Poland all over again. The fowl didn't stand a chance. Needless to say I was less popular than before the meal began because of this. The conversation was flowing and My first bite of Gored Gored was tasty and that's when it got weird. Suddenly, I went to swallow like I've been doing every meal for damn near 34 years, and my stupid Gored gets lodged in my throat. I kept trying to swallow it, but no luck. I then realized I really couldn't breathe so well. Naturally I thought that a swig of mah fine Eritrean brewski would help. Bad idea because that didn't go down either. At this point I must have looked a bit distressed because peeps began to ask if I was "okay?" I couldn't find the words to answer, mostly because I couldn't talk. At this point people say their lives flash before their eyes. What flashed before mine was the gripping fear of creating a huge scene in the middle of a restaurant and puking on the table or passing out on the floor. I've seen this happen before and it wasn't pretty. However, in these cases I do believe the food is on the house. I could have taken one for the team in that case, but instead I opted to go off and die in quiet dignity, on the sidewalk. On the way out the beer kind of came up in my hand, which was gross. I was only outside for a few seconds and I overcame my ordeal just as one the peeps came to see if I was cool. I was cool. A little bit scared to be honest and a little more respectful of the Gored Gored. The thinly veiled message I have tried to impart to you is: Chew your food bitches!
I had planned to bring the Holga but I forgot it so the pic above is some rando's labor of love.
The Spice must flow....................Just not from our arses.