Tej

On a day full of eating to excess, like Giles Coren in Edwardian supersize me mode, I was done in by a few ounces of tej - Ethiopian honey wine.

Lunch was at International Smokeless BBQ, a pale shadow of the legendary Porky & Porkie. However, ISBBQ is still in business, and it shall not be taken for granted. As fate would have it, dinner was at an Ethiopian friend's house, and man can they cook. Truly, I did not require food at that point, I needed soothing tinctures of the most potent variety. Nonetheless, I ate, as they are splendid cooks, and I love, love, love Ethiopian food. And so I ate. And ate. And ate. Until it hurt. It has been years since I've eaten like that.

If Yahweh hadn't smote the snake in the Brick Testament, I would have presented a not unreasonable facsimile of a fully limbed constrictor having eaten for the year. I could barely move. Somehow, I made it to the sofa, where while being accosted by their dog, a hyperactive Papillon, I tried to focus on breathing. I recall murmurings about dessert, which, to my great relief, had gone missing. Instead, out came some home-made TEJ - an Ethiopian honey wine, sort of like mead. Of indeterminate strength, but gets stronger the longer it sits (no surprise there, it's all sugar waiting to be converted). It's sweet, but not that sweet, with a cantaloupe flavour, decent acidity and slightly frizzante. Also a curious herbality, which I understand comes from the gesho shrub which is used for fermentation. That link, by the way, helpfully points out that gesho is NOT something you can pick up at your local Piggly Wiggly on your way home from work. Good to know.

It tasted strong, sort of in the 20% range (though I read now that it is more likely half that). Be that as it may, it completely and utterly kicked my ass. The honey acts as an accelerant. I literally had about twice the amount in the glass as shown. And I felt instantly hungover. My head hurt. I felt emotional. I really needed to lie down, but I was afraid to close my eyes. And not looking forward to the hour in the car driving back to Philly. Not that that happened anytime soon, because as I lay there in my stupor, coffee beans were being roasted. And then the dessert was found. Triple chocolate cheesecake...