With your fingers. Because it's silly to sit down with fine folk and share only the conversation -- when there are germs and elbow-space and enormous platters of wat to be scooped up with that spongy fermented injera.
Quite frankly, when LJ makes Ethiopian food, it's magic. And when there's a fire in the grate and cats and guitars, it's hard not to question our dependence on things like forks and job interviews.
In other news, the new house is great, and I'm taking advantage of its relative security to brew kombucha, make granola, and cultivate houseplants.