Growing up we used to have a kitchen in the main house ላይ ቤት ኩሺና and another one in the servant quarters ታች ቤት ኩሺና, where the major cooking and baking happened.
Although, I was forbidden by my late father not to go near the servant quarter's kitchen for concern of open fire cooking, I made it a habit to sneak in there to help the cooks and injera bakers; became quite attached to them; as well as fond of their unabached loose talk .
Still fresh in my mind, the first time my late mom let me prepare the chicken stew; I still recall her warm affirmative comment that I did a good job - ባለ ሙያ.
Back in the days, we would buy a live chicken from the market and kill it. Killing that poor chicken was the man’s job.
The process of cooking chicken stew (ዶሮ ወጥ) was quite lengthy with a lot of details. From getting rid of the feathers of the dead chicken to cutting up the whole chicken and washing the chicken and add some lime juice/wages and more washing and sniffing. Then peeling lots and lots of those small onions (shallots) and dicing, sautéing, caramelizing and on and on – that was quite a process.