请别邀请我吃晚餐
All the appetizing aromas from Big Mama's kitchen greet you at the front door: Plump chicken breasts sizzling in her special batter, fresh collard greens she planted, pulled and plucked from the earth before stewing with a whole pig's foot for flavor, macaroni and cheese that should be called cheese-and-mac because the noodles are drowning in six types of dairy - and you'd better not forget the candy-dripping yams with marshmallows swirling in King Syrup. All of this complemented by Big Mama's sweet and buttery biscuits - you know, the golden, crunchy at the top ones that only she can make? Washed down with an ice cold Diet Pepsi? Sounds amazing, right? Not to me. I hate home cooked meals. People twist their faces and look at me like I'm crazy when I tell them this, wondering how a black man from Baltimore - a predominately black city - would not be willing to cancel his schedule or trade it all for a hot plate from Big Mama's. And I understand where the confusion comes from. Food has been one - if not the top - of our coping mechanisms for surviving as African Americans. In many urban areas, we are forced to deal with poor housing, underfunded schools, while living in the middle of food deserts. And still my people can whip up magic - 45 different entrees from one pig alone, turning parts of the animal into delicacies. I remember one of my undergraduate history professors telling us the story of a slave cracking a perfectly healthy pig in the head with a rock until the animal looked defective so that his master would reject it, allowing the slave to keep it for a personal family feast. I also understand the role that the soul food dinner plays in black families. They are both competitive - like, who makes the best potato salad? -, giving us time to share our triumphs and hardships over dishes. As nostalgic as these moments are, and as much as I love my family, I still don't care about home-cooked meals. A home-cooked dinner demands all of the things from me that I don't want to be obligated to give. But if you want to invite me over anyway, I might come, just for the meal. I'm always hungry. |