Okra, Fries and Finding Mr. Right
My Cab Driver Pimped Me Out
He was too handsome to be a cab driver. I guessed he was Ethiopian. When I asked, he confirmed my suspicion with a broad smile that made his delicate features dance. Damn it! I was tipsy, but still. He was making me visualize daring sexual acts in quick succession.
His melodious accent floated through the warm air flooding into the cab as he probed me about my night out. I made it seem a lot more exciting than it really was. He jokingly admitted that he could tell, “I was trouble.”
I playfully admitted I was as we arrived at my apartment.
“I get off in a few minutes,” he coyly offered. Before I could process the pros and cons, I invited him up. He was a taker. He devoured and conquered and I lazily let him have his way with me. Afterwards the battle scars were evident in places that were inconveniently visible. But oh what a night!
Two days later, I canceled my movie date with a friend and made my way to Solomon’s Harlem pad. As the door swung open, I could smell the breathtaking scent of one of my favorite dishes — Doro Wett. He looked smaller and shorter than I remembered. But shirtless, he was fit as a fiddle, which explained his intense agility between the sheets.
We hugged and I surveyed the apartment as I took off my shoes. It was modest and filled with native artwork and black and white pictures. The table was set and we sat down to eat.
The conversation flowed well and the wine helped to put us in the right mood. A couple of hours later, we were at it again. It felt like the first time only better because I was fully into it. As we lay there panting, sweating and contemplating another round, the door flew open. Laughter and voices filled the darkness and I abruptly sat up.
Solomon began speaking to the guy in a language I didn’t understand. That was the least of my worries. Who were these people? What was going on? After what seemed like an eternity, Solomon turned his attention to me.
It was still dark, but the light streaming in from the neighboring building revealed his cunning smile. “So, we are going to have some fun — yeah?” “What do you mean?” was all I could muster, as I felt all the sweat draining from my body. “Well, my cousin and his girl want to play.” Before I could utter a word, a naked girl’s body plopped next to me and things escalated rapidly.
If only I had been drunk enough to passively process the situation. I was pissed. How dare he assume I’d be down! Yes, okay. I did fuck him the first night and from what I could make out his cousin was pretty darn cute, but I wasn’t interested in starring in a makeshift porn movie.
I wiggled my way out of the chaos and the grasp of the two guys trying to thwart my mission. The girl was hysterical. She seemed to be laughing and crying at the same time.
Once I settled into the cab ride home, I noticed the hot driver checking me out in the rearview mirror. I begged him to let me out. At that moment, walking was the only option.
Doro Wett (Chicken Stew)Ingredients
2 medium red onion, diced, salt, 1/4 cup Spiced Butter (or 4 tablespoons (1/2 stick) unsalted butter, divided, 1/4 teaspoon ground cardamom, preferably freshly ground, 1/4 teaspoon freshly ground black pepper, 3 cloves, 2 garlic cloves, finely chopped, One 1 1/2-inch piece ginger, peeled and chopped, 1 tablespoon Berbere or chili powder, 2 1/2 cups chicken stock, divided, One 4-to 5-pound chicken, cut into 10 pieces, wings reserved for another use, 1/4 cup dry red wine, Juice of 1 lime, 2 hard-boiled eggs, peeled — Goes splendidly with Injera (Ethiopian flat bread)
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