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I can’t be a racist because I’m hungry


(Photo: Todd Diemer)

I can’t be a racist. Not that I’ve ever tried but seriously, I just can’t.



I’m serious.


I am always hungry.

I love to cook (see above statement).

My inner fat boy – who is trying to be an out fat boy these days – loves people like he loves cake.

So let’s just break this down, shall we?

Arab Food – you haven’t lived until you’ve had Gallayah (chicken or beef) with Almond Rice.

Jewish Food – FALAFEL – Just Falafel. All of the Falafel, please.

Italian – all of it. ALL OF IT.

Mexican – (See Italian)

Chinese – God Bless General Tso, wherever that baby is.

Japanese – Nom nom nom nom

Vietnamese – PHO!

Tai – see Japanese

German – More Sour Kraut, please

African American – Soul Food? Bless me with some friend chicken, some collard greens cooked with a smoked pork hock, and some mashed potatoes – I am yours. Seriously. The adoption papers can be made available. It would make family reunions fun.

I think you all get my point.

I don’t want to be racist because it cuts off all the good food in the world. These things that we’ve grown so accustomed to as we are sitting around our dinner tables every evening. Maybe to get rid of all the superfluous rhetoric floating around out there we need to go back to the basics. Find things we all have in common.

We gotta eat. We love food. And what problems in the world haven’t been brought up and resolved around a dinner table?

I can’t be racist because I’m hungry. And I hunger for a day when we can gather around the dinner table and be blessed by each other’s company.

So why don’t we just stop the craziness and wash our hands of it?

And while you’re here, will you help me set the table?

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