But sometimes you have to settle for an ‘E’ for effort with Ethiopian

Partnership is a delicate balance of remaining somewhat autonomous and at the same time learning to share space, time, interests and decision making. No wonder it’s so difficult to keep a romantic partnership afloat, with all these different pieces being juggled at the same time.

Sharing interests is often how new couples bond, and for many, it can be a life-long process, as we slowly discover different aspects of each other. For me, one of the earliest ways in which my current partnership expanded my horizons was through new foods. I’ve always thought of myself as open-minded when it comes to trying new things, and food is no exception. But I realized how limited my culinary explorations had been when my partner, Joseph, began to introduce me to new worlds of food.

As an accomplished cook, he soon had me trying dishes from his native New Mexico, as well as other places around the world. In addition, he introduced me to new restaurants, and I was soon addicted to sushi and enamored with Vietnamese cooking.

But as in all relationships, there are some interests and passions that simply don’t translate. I hit that wall during our first few months together, when he took me to one of his favorite college hangouts in Portland, Jarra’s, an Ethiopian restaurant frequented by Reed students. He was very happy to return to his favorite spot, and I was excited to try yet another new regional food.

I’m not sure if it was the greenish boiled egg or the soggy injera (flat bread) that did me in, but I failed. Failed hard. Watching the enthusiasm with which Joseph was downing his plate of spicy food, I wished that I could embrace yet another new flavor adventure. But I was already turning as green as the egg on my plate.

Six years have passed since I made that first attempt, so when we were in Portland the other day, and he asked me where I wanted to go for dinner, he was shocked and disbelieving when I suggested Ethiopian.

I figured that a palate can change in six years, and that it was time to give it another chance. Tastes change, people change, and he was so excited to go that I didn’t regret my decision.

That is, until half way through the meal when that sickly green hue began creeping over me again. Joseph noticed it before I did. He began to chuckle.

“You’re making that face,” he said. It’s a sort of tightening at the mouth I unconsciously get when I’m faced with something unpleasant. I tried to pretend I was fine, but the expression didn’t go away.

Joseph tucked away his plate with enthusiasm, but I waned pretty quickly, and despite the lovely attentions of the owner, who was also our server, and the expressions of delight on the faces of other diners, I realized that this might be one of those things I was never going to “get.”

What I did get was why Joseph loved the place. The owner was a delightful man who clearly took deep interest in each of his customers, and spent a long time talking to us about learning Spanish, and the linguistic difficulties that come up with trying to learn a new language. He seemed equally focused on the other restaurant guests, who lingered for a long time in the cheerful space which Joseph said remained virtually untouched over the years. That kept me focused on the experience, rather than my increasing difficulties with cleaning my plate.

Later that night, when my stomach kept me awake by yelling its displeasure, I thought about other things that simply weren’t ever going to translate. My love of Jane Austen, for instance. My mom’s recipe for hamburger pie, a casserole dish that has Joseph heading for the door. His fascination with televised boxing.

Differences are challenging. They can be downright frustrating, and when those differences include opposite stands on important issues, they can fray the fabric of any relationship. But there are some differences we can embrace as making a relationship richer and more interesting. I had tried to force myself to like something simply because he enjoyed it. He appreciated the effort, but we both recognized that it was time for me to surrender to that green boiled egg and find something else to share instead.

Theresa Hogue can be reached at theresa.hogue@lee.net or 758-9526.