I invited some ladies who bake over to my house last Sunday for a cookie exchange. We drank mulled wine on the front porch in the afternoon sun. December in Ethiopia is very pleasant, just like all the other months in Ethiopia.
Each person made cookies for everyone else to take home. We oohed and aahed at the spiced and sugared creations. We shared our recipes and tasted a few samples.
After everyone left, Alekka and I arranged our share of the gingerbread animals, peanut butter kisses, baklava, jammy ribbon cakes, and lemon balls on big plates. There were lots and lots of cookies.
Although I am sure we could have managed if we had to, there were certainly more treats there than two people ought to eat. The next morning I left a note for the housekeeper to take some home to her family.
When Alekka and I got home from school, there was not a gingersnap or a Nanaimo bar in sight. In disbelief, we checked inside every cupboard in the house.
“And the one speck of food that he left in the house
Was a crumb that was even too small for a mouse.”
Then I saw the note.
It was one of those Amelia Bedelia second-language moments that we occasionally have, especially when communicating via notepad without any contextual cues. The word “full” sometimes does mean “all.”
But that’s OK. Etsegenet is a great housekeeper, and I am sure those cookies are a rare treat for her kids. And I have the recipes now, so I can just make more!