If You Want Something Done Right...

As you probably know, I have an affinity for baked goods. Actually, it's more of an addiction. That's okay. I can admit it. That's the first step anyways, right? "Hi, my name is Anthony Angelo, and I'm a dessert-aholic."

Let me give you a little background. When I was working for the LAPD, I would normally work the night shift. This night shift would often carry my work "day" into the hours of 4, 5, and even 6am. Most guys would talk about getting off work and grabbing a drink on their way home. One, I don't like beer, and two, I don't like other drinks enough to pay ridiculous prices for them. However, where ever it comes from, I still had that longing to seek out something comfortable with which I can forget about the detriment of man from the night just ended. As with most avenues of escape, mine was not exactly healthy. Sure, I wasn't getting drunk in some bar, shooting the newest mix of narcotics, or seeking out loose women for a good time, but being alone, at home, and with no accountability I turned to what I knew to be the ideal escape: fresh baked cookies. There I was at five in the morning, while the rest of the city slept, making chocolate chips cookies from scratch, accompanied by none other than my Kitchenaid and the soft tunes of Pandora. Baking a healthy three-quarters dozen for my personal consumption before bed, I stored the rest for another night.

Situations like this are not rare in my life. Unfortunately, like the realities of second-hand smoke, my eating habits tend to more drastically affect those around me. On more than one occasion, I have been told that people gain weight while being around me. Although I do not accredit the extremity of such an anomaly to my presence, the rest of the community does not share this same perspective. I guess it does not help to be quoted as saying, "Every good meal deserves a good dessert." In fact, I would go as far as to say that every good meal decreases in goodness if not followed by a good dessert.

Although my awareness of my addiction is far too keen, I did not stop to consider the possibility of Rwanda not being able to propel my cravings.  I thought of course Rwanda would have dessert! Sure, it's a developing country, but at least they would have a decent milkshake. This is not so.

Reader, do not fret. I am surviving. Barely, but I am holding on. In the beginning, I would accept meals without a meaningful ending, telling myself, "Self, just not here, not this menu, not this restaurant." But meals turned into days, days turned into weeks, and I was losing hope. As my hope decreased, my addiction increased. Not even with the strength of a hundred Goliaths could I win this battle. I needed to do something...



If only Mama Rwanda was around to help



On occasion, my boss invites all the interns and fellows to his house for a BBQ. It's a great time had by all. This most recent invitation was my second. The first time, I was unaware of the potluck nature of the gathering, and in the last hour I offered to bring drinks. This second time, with my craving for something sweet and delicious in full force, I quickly chose dessert as my contribution. All week I brainstormed, seeking the balance between my creativity and budget with Rwanda's resources. Then it was decided: apple crisp - easy, delicious, affordable. As I sought out the ingredients in the local grocery store, I came across a couple hiccoughs. First, there were no walnuts. So, the crumble topping will be a little less crumbly. That's okay. I can live with that. Second, their "brown sugar" is not exactly brown sugar. They actually mean brown sugar, as in sugar that is colored brown, as in raw sugar crystals. If I had wanted brown sugar as I am used to calling it, I needed to look for "sugar with added molasses." Unfortunately, I did not become aware of this difference until I was in the thralls of baking. Determined to adapt and overcome, I pressed on. Peeling, coring, slicing, mixing, stirring, melting, kneading... baking. The final product was now only 45 minutes away. Taking it out of the oven, it smelled and looked as expected. I plucked a small cluster off the top: a little sweet. Hopefully, that would be offset by the apples. Now for transport. The cheapest and most efficient way to get around Kigali if you do not own your own vehicle is by moto taxi. This is nothing more than a guy on a motorcycle with an extra helmet. One hand holding on to the crisp, the other one holding on to the bike, and we were off. Everything was going fine until we got to the dirt road and the driver's speed did not change. I just kept thinking, "Whatever happens, save the crisp." By the grace of God I made safely to my destination with the crisp in tact.

The night's food was enjoyable as was the company. My boss' wife brought out the dessert, and everyone dug right in. People were surprised and pleased. I was satisfied. Mission accomplished. Although my first baking experience in Africa was less than ideal, it satisfied my craving... at least a while. However, that satisfaction sparked a lingering craving, which has ran much deeper and for much longer. Only God knows if that craving will ever be satisfied.