If you’re not eating with your hand, you’re not eating.
March 10, 2010
Period. Fact. As stated by an old Tashlheit woman. Really what she said was something along the lines of, “igh ur t-shit s-ufus, uratshtat.” Thankfully she didn’t take a militant approach to the issue, only switching over herself from the spoon she had starting using against her will. She promptly began eating the tagula, semi-gooey rice cooked with salt and olive oil and served up in a big heaping mound on a communal plate, with her right hand. That’s the way they do it around here. And I’ll do it, sure, especially in big gatherings, but this one time I just wanted to enjoy my meal and not have to lick my fingers clean. I was quite pleased when the dinner table appeared with optional spoons.
I’ve come a long way in a year. I’ll eat almost anything by hand. And enjoy licking my fingers afterwards. I’ll even occasionally suffer the ridicule of Tashlheit women who don’t believe I can really eat with my hand the way they do, or who don’t see that it’s not my fault sometimes when the soucsou is dry, making it impossible for me to moosh the grains together into a ball that can make it from the communal plate to my mouth without leaving a trail of crumbs along the way. Nobody likes dry couscous. (Random side note: I had the BEST hand-eatin’ couscous I’ve ever had just the other day. So perfectly moist, and yet not soup. A beautiful thing. I ate more couscous that meal than I have in a long time, partially because of the amazing sense of accomplishment I got from making PERFECT a’abuds (balls of couscous).
Another area in which I’ve come a long way: just eating. So this one night, I put a lot of effort into making a stir-fry. It turned out great. But the rice noodles I cooked for it, man, I was draining the liquid from the pot and sure enough, whatduyaknow, but I dropped the lid and most of the noodles fell into a baking sheet that was in the sink… and full of soapy water. But, it was my dinner, and I was tired… I didn’t wanna make new noodles. I didn’t wanna make rice. So, I swished my noodles in water about three times and sucked it up. I ate my stir-fry. Soapy, sure, but at least I had dinner. The next night I made sure to drain my noodles the right way–no more soap for me.
Anyway, soap is one thing. Tonight I was reheating some egg drop soup that I made last night. Delicious, by the way. Mmmmm, so easy to make and so good. Well, tonight I left the pot to do some stuff while it heated up. Came back, stirred it around, turned off the gas to let it cool off a touch. And then I saw something that I knew hadn’t been in the recipe. Something dark and small. No big chunks of pepper in my soup, and I know the parsley bits from my chicken boullion didn’t turn black. Alright, sure enough, some little punkass fly bug landed in my soup. Not a big deal, honestly. But either way, as I chucked the thing, I recalled something I read yesterday in an example lesson about nutrition. With all the foods listed that would help a person “grow”, there were the categories “legumes”, “nuts”, “oil seeds”, and last but not least, “animal products”, listed under which I found “milk, meat, chicken, eggs, fish, and insects” [emphasis is mine]. Delightful. So, here now tonight, should I ingest any of the bug that landed in my soup, I will simply remind myself that I am eating food that is nothing more, and nothing less, than a “protein or body-building helper”. Thank you, Helping Health Workers Learn. Invaluable information.
tamghartan tga ibba yamna xtan li ie3jbt ahaouache tzdgh h imi n imi n lhussein ghakodan tga jdda n tarumit
