Jalapenos Don't Grow In Ethiopia

May I present to you a fleeting vignette also titled "only things that Cookie would do." Last night I sat down to a radiant evening meal with my sweetheart and his mother who I was meeting for the first time. The choice was a small ethiopian venue in the heart of the mayhem that is Georgetown on the night of Halloween. Following our beet salad the waitress filled the table with a platter of spiced meat and vegetables. For my first bite, I decided to sample the cabbage and okra that was closest to me. The problem was, what I thought was a large piece of okra was in fact a pepper so spicy I would have happily squelched the fire that was my tongue for the next five minutes with a glass of habanera juice. I giggled as graciously as I could while a few tears streamed involuntarily down my cheeks and the waitress raced a small cup of milk to my aid.

Although we'd broken the ice much earlier with discussions of our similar career paths and mutual admiration for her offspring, this certainly helped to melt away any potential remaining awkwardness. Because what parent would not embrace a goofy girlfriend who can swallow a flaming jalapeno with dignity?