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. 

Injera and lentil wat (and a tiny Shel update)

Quick Shel update: 1) Jack's teacher was as amused by the whole situation as I was which is comforting, to say the least. 2) I have learned more about Shel than I ever expected to know. 3) When in 5th grade, Oliver will not be doing his poetry research project on Shel.
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Ok, so as y'all might know, I like to talk to people- friends, strangers, neighbors, whoever. Generally speaking, I'm a social gal. 

Also, I am the mother of sons and have a husband. Because of this, I am an almost-daily regular at the market nearest me. Because, constant, high-quantity eating. 

In any case, I have gotten to know a number of the store's employees and truly enjoy seeing them when I'm there. Last time I got one of my horrid sinus rages, Hiwot reminded me that drinking my body weight in hot water with lemon, ginger, and honey was wise. I ran and got a huge knob of ginger and later that afternoon was grateful for her advice.

The next time I saw her, I thanked her profusely, and we talked some more and then were pals. One week ago yesterday, I was at the store purchasing, among other items, some red lentils because I have been helping a friend test recipes for the cookbook she's writing. Hiwot said, "Are you making lentil soup?"

"Yes!"

"I make lentil wat and always put berbere in it."

"Is that like pili-pili from Kenya?"

"Not the same but it is a red pepper. I bring mine back from Ethiopia. Do you have any?"

"No, sadly. It sounds great."

"I'll bring you some. And my recipe."

"OMG, I will bring you some preserves."

So, we set a date, met in the check-out line at the appointed time, and exchanged goods. I made her a pear, lemon, honey, and ginger preserve (because hello, she and I met because of ginger), and she brought me a generously-filled Ziploc of berbere and her hand-written notes on lentil wat.

Powdered gold.

"Do you like injera?"

"I love it. Do you make yours with teff only or a teff-wheat blend?"

"Only teff, of course. Both black and white. Well, ivory. Have you had both injeras?"

"No, I've only had ivory. This is so cool. I had no idea there was black injera."

"I will make you some. Let's meet back here next week, same time."

People, I was overwhelmed by her generosity.

We met yesterday, and she had the most amazing, yeasty, spongy, full-of-moon-craters injera for me. THAT SHE HAD MADE JUST HOURS BEFORE! You have to have a starter and let it ferment and everything. Truly, I was and remain so deeply touched. And my inner foodie was just off her rocker.

Today for lunch, I made myself Hiwot's red lentil wat. I stood over the stove as oil and onion and berbere melded, as ginger and garlic made everything fragrant, as the lentils went in and I added water by the cupful as if I were making an African risotto. 

While it cooked I called the White House comment line and waited on hold for ten minutes. Democracy in action, y'all. And then I spoke to a lovely woman and told her how desperately worried I felt about our country. I asked her to please tell President Obama that I felt it'd be grand if he would declassify everything pertaining to Russia's hacking of the DNC, DNCC, Hillary, Bernie, everything BEFORE the electors place their final votes on December 19. It won't change the outcome but we all deserve to be as fully informed as possible. 

And she thanked me for calling, and I thanked her for answering, and we hung up and I burst into tears because this country and Trump's buffet of unqualified Cabinet choices and Aleppo. But then the wat was done and Hiwot's injera was waiting, and I had the most magnificent, beautiful lunch I've had in a while.

I sat in silence and gratitude, thinking of all the beautiful difference in this world. Of cuisines and people and names and places of birth, and how so often when we come together in compassionate, generous, curious, lovely ways, we are all strengthened and made better.