I have known my dining companion for 20 years. We have traveled together, attended concerts together, and slept through meetings together. We have seen each other angry, disappointed, tired, stressed, and sad. We have even watched a documentary about fonts together. Over the years, there has been cause for disappointment and frustration now and then, but most of the time, we have approached our professional challenges with humor, solidarity, and energy.

Then we went for lunch to East Africa.

Apparently, it’s popular among team-building retreats to include collaborative eating activities to foster bonding. Preparing and sharing a meal is often done in a basic setting, drawing on ancient and deep-rooted connections. Breaking bread together in a simple, traditional way has deep evolutionary, psychological, and cultural roots that supposedly play a crucial role in bonding and team building.

Sitting together and eating with your hands could reinforce the idea of equality. Why not? After all, there’s no apparent hierarchy if everyone shares in the bounty on equal terms. There’s also the intimacy aspect, right? Eating in front of others can be seen as a vulnerable act. It exposes a basic human need. By sharing this vulnerability, individuals can grow closer.

Eating with your hands in close proximity to someone else seems to be considered a powerful way to foster connection and trust. Whether you’re trying to build a bond with someone new or deepen an existing relationship, such an experience can be incredibly impactful.

It can also be a way of making an ass of yourself, in an incredibly impactful way.

It was a beautiful day in Gothenburg – you know, one of those last shivering moments before the crisp, vibrant colors of fall are finally defeated by the cold, relentless gray of winter – and we were in the mood for stew. A few The Fork & TripAdvisor reviews later, we settled for East Africa.

And we were not disappointed. The unassuming little restaurant in the middle of Kvilletorget served us lovely Eritrean food – spicy, rich, well-cooked, sophisticated, plentiful, and fun. It was beautifully presented on a large tray, with two different beef stews, rice, and salad on top of the injera, the sourdough flatbread with a slightly spongy texture, traditionally made from fermented teff flour. The service was equally fantastic, and the staff went to great lengths to explain the intricacies of Eritrean cuisine – and how to share the meal.

All in all, we got off to a great start.

• Name: East Africa, Kvilletorget 18
• Cuisine: Eritrean
• Walking distance from Zenseact: 15 mins
• Price: 135 sek, drink excluded
• Rating: 5 NCAP stars (Norra Älvstranden Culinary Assessment Program)

But as you’ve likely deduced, this is where the tale takes a regrettable turn.

I’ll spare you the details. There’s no need to describe how profoundly I disgraced myself trying to handle that poor injera. I won’t recount how I dropped stew on the floor, on my shirt, and in my lap. And even if I wanted to, I can’t really explain how I managed to get food in my eyebrow.

Now, as this grotesque display of human incompetence unfolded amid the crowded restaurant, my eating buddy became increasingly uncomfortable. For a man of the world, a man of knowledge and sophistication, the burden of witnessing his colleague eat like a three-year-old was taking its toll. And when I suggested, licking the sauce from my fingers, that we place a bite of food into each other’s mouth as a sign of friendship, he almost went into shock. So we finished our meal in silence and walked starkly back to the office, where we parted ways.

But please don’t let this story discourage you from visiting East Africa. It is one of the best restaurants in Kville, and, who knows – an injera lunch might do wonders for you socially.

By now, a few weeks have passed. I am back in my colleague’s good graces. We will never visit anything other than a strictly knife-and-fork- joint again, but at least we can laugh about it. Come to think of it, maybe it wasn’t such a terrible mistake after all.

We’ll return shortly with another review. In the meantime, heed the great Robert Frost’s advice and choose the road less traveled – a wise gastronomic approach and an outstanding professional mantra for every Zenseactian.