Welcome to the new world . . .

. . . in which blogs are used for good. To change the world in a positive way. To conjure peace in these troubled times. At least, that was my intent when I decided that maybe I could influence the current state of affairs, that maybe ranting about random things isn't the WORST thing in the world. And what is the worst thing?

Life without easy access to Ethiopian food, by far the most delectable, filling, probably-good-for-you (I ask you -- what percentage of Ethiopia's GNP is used to fight cancer, obesity and disease? Exactly.) cuisine in the world.

Tsehay at Ras Kassa's in Boulder, Colorado, plopped the first morsel ever of Ethiopian food into my surprised mouth (newcomers to the cuisine generally get a quick lesson in how to wrap up a sampling of the dishes in a slip of the spongey sour crepe-like bread -- the equivalent of utensils -- which the hostess then serves, direct to the mouth). At first, the restaurant was based in an old gas station on the road to Golden.

The tiny room, which probably once harbored quarts of oil, fuel additive and gum, held less than a dozen tables -- squat rattan baskets with just enough room for the circular serving dishes and three or four sets of knees around it. The inevitable wait was always worth the time spent sitting in or on the rattan chairs in the narrow foyer. Aside from a loyal clientele, the place garnered at least one extra credit question on a university quiz. Eventually Ras Kassa's moved into town, setting up shop next to one of the many creeks that marble the city.

And then I lived for years in Idaho Falls, a small town in southeast Idaho, where we barely had a decent Chinese and Thai place. Indian? Ha. No, the town is/was too small for even that spot on the heirarchy of furr-in cuisine. The closest place to get Indian food was Salt Lake City, three and a half hours south.

The Tri-cities area does have an Indian place, about the same quality as Idaho Falls' one remaining Thai place, but that's as far down as it goes on the furr-in cuisine list. But Seattle, a mere three hours to the north and west, is awash in Ethiopian restaurants. Like the growing divide between the haves and the haves-not, Seattlites get to wallow in the delicious food, while the rest of us only get to peer through the window, wishing to scoop up some of that doro wat and metatesh with our sliver of injera and pop it into our salivating mouths.

Yes, we can drive there as well. And Ethiopian food is no doubt worth the trouble of a three hour drive, one way. But that is a lot of energy to spend, and we're drowning in our greenhouse gases already. So I ask, what will it take to woo Ethiopians (who can cook their African food and want to own a restaurant) to the Tri-cities area? I don't know, but that is the mission of this blog.