More lentil wat and my first batch of injera

Last month, I wrote about my Ethiopian friend, Hiwot, and her generosity. She brought me a bag of berbere, her recipe for red lentil wat, homemade injera, AND starter so I could try and make my own. She also directed me to Black Lion market where I bought teff flour, more lentils, and a mitad, the grill on which injera is cooked. 

Hiwot sent me a YouTube video about making injera, and let me tell you, I was intimidated. I mean, the man in the tutorial used a fermentation bucket and an airlock. I can make a pie crust in my sleep, and it's rare that in the kitchen, I pause, put my hands on my hips, and think, "Dang. This is gonna take some time and practice!" 

Injera made me think exactly that.

But I love a challenge, and so with Hiwot's starter and my new flour and a generous dash of "fake it 'til you make it," I ordered a cheap bucket and airlock (great products and service from Bell's General Store, a brewing-oriented company in Kalamazoo, by the way) and got started.

starter

airlock nestled in the fermentation bucket's lid

Injera is a three-part, multi-day process punctuated by lengthy periods of rest time during which the batter ferments (hence the use of the airlock, although Hiwot was like "Huh??" She does NOT use the dang airlock!). If you linger around the batter or crack open the lid of the bucket just a bit, you're whacked with a pleasantly pungent aroma- yeasty, sour...rather what you might expect from fermenting grain and sourdough bread.

after 3 days of fermenting, the batter was actively bubbling!

Injera is unlike any bread I've ever made. The batter is runny, rather like that for pancakes. And Teff is a very fine flour, the brown variety particularly so.

brown teff flour

There's no kneading involved in the making of injera, and ultimately you cook each injera like you would a crepe, batter poured fairly thinly atop a hot griddle-for injera, the mitad-for a brief spell.

mitad off and minus its lid

Mitad heating and with lid

I am very pleased with this grill. It's fabulous to be able to set your desired temperature and know that it will remain steady, a must for such quick, needs-to-be-even cooking. Because everything happened so rapidly once I started making the injeras, I don't have many action shots. But here, you can see the "eyes" of the injera popping open.

eyes forming

That's good. Many eyes, the result of active, successful fermentation, produce the spongy texture that injera is known for. The mouthfeel of good injera is an absolute delight, a chewy, pillowy, yeasty pleasure.

Hiwot's was perfect. Mine was too dense and not as pliable, but for a first go, I'm proud. And perhaps the best part was that the kids enjoyed this whole meal. Will wonders never cease?! I even remembered to reserve some of the batter as starter for my next batch.

injera made from both brown and ivory teff, and red lentil wat

I sent Hiwot all these pictures, and she was, as always, incredibly lovely and supportive. She also sent me the second video in the series of tutorials she's making me. I know my injera will be so much better next time. And meanwhile, lucky me to have this woman as a friend. 

Ethiopian market, Christmas present for self, cheesecake

I was so jazzed about my injera and wat lunch earlier this week that I immediately texted Hiwot and asked if she might be remotely willing to teach me how to make injera. If so, where should I get supplies?

"I'm glad that you love my Injera, I'm totally willing to teach you how to make injera. You can find the Teff flour and the (Mitad) grill from any Ethiopian market or I can tell you the market address in Washington DC...I'll bring you some starter."

Um, yes. I am ALWAYS down for exploring a new-to-me market. Hiwot directed me to Black Lion Market on 14th St NW, certain it would have both black and ivory teff flour and the exact grill I needed to cook the injera. Can you even believe the loveliness of this woman? 

I walked in and shyly inquired about the grill, showing one employee a photograph that Hiwot had sent me. 

"Oh yes, you want this one! Also, it can help you make chapatis, tortillas, and pita." 

"Thank you! This is perfect. And do you have smaller than 42-pound bags of teff flour?"

"Now you need to talk to this woman. She knows everything about flour."

That lovely woman brought me over to smaller bags of flour, gallon-size Ziplocs of various flours individually weighed and priced, labeled in Amharic. I heaved one bag each of black and ivory teff, and also a large sack of red lentils into my arms, and placed them carefully on the counter by the register before adding a boxed grill to the mix.

A young man with a great smile walked up behind me, placed his bag of injera on the counter, saw my pile, and asked, "Are you going to make injera? Do you like it?" I was the only white shopper in Black Lion, and I am certain he wondered if I knew what I was doing. 

I smiled back and said, "I love it. My friend made me some and said she would teach me and that these items are what I need because she'll bring some starter. Isn't that cool?"

I showed him and the two women at the register my pictures of Hiwot's injera and they were very impressed.

"Oh yes, she knows what she is doing!"

Then I showed my photo of the wat I'd made. 

"You made that? Lentil wat? Good for you."

We were all smiling like crazy. I turned to the man behind me and said, "Now why aren't you making your own injera?" and grinned. He laughed and said, "Oh, I know I should! But I'm not so good at it." 

I stumbled out into a freezing day, arms and heart full. 
~~~
Winter break started yesterday after the kids finished school, and I cannot adequately express how deeply thrilled I am to have no homework to oversee for a full two weeks. Ah! Oliver spent last night at a friend's house, and Jack, T and I grilled a pizza and vegged out.

Today, the boys and I finished up one of the two epic projects we've been working on as surprise gifts for the grandparents, and I made a pumpkin cheesecake for the freezer and also a batch of rum balls. The latter gets better over time, so they'll be perfect when Mom and Dad arrive next week, and my sister, brother-in-law, and nephew, just after!