Last week my family and I celebrated my homecoming day which, for those of you who weren’t orphan Annie’s, is an added holiday for adopted people to commemorate the day that they were brought home. My understanding is that it’s also a means of reconciling any loose ends that were not covered by my birthday and/or Christmas lists.
In this episode of my solo foodcast, I speak on the confusion that children of adoption feel when they meditate on the foods that spark a sense of “home” through the palate, given that they’re generally not of the ethnicity into which they were born. For instance, I was raised in an Italian-American household where it isn’t a day that ends in ‘Y’ if my hands don’t smell like garlic. I was taught that Corningware resides in the oven, and that any portable food should be packaged in aluminum tins. While eggplant and lasagna evoke nostalgia, Colombian delicacies like arepas and ajiaco remain foreign. In fact, I had to Google what an arepa was after recording this episode just to be sure that what I said was not a spewing of made-up garbage.
And so, I question: Is taste a product of nature or is it developed through nurture? Will foods of my purported ethnicity ever comfort me in the same manner if I were to find a way to make them recur more often in my diet?
Note: I do not sound like Beyoncé because I did not realize that I had some weird sound setting while recording on Garageband. Oh well. Add it to the TIFUs.
Mom and dad—I’m not sure why our stars aligned on the fated day that you plucked me out of all of the other children from the cabbage patch, but I am so thankful that they did. For without your care I would have probably been a mustached field worker in Bogotá with double rows of jacked-up teeth. You know how much I hate the outdoors.
The life that you have provided me with is filled with experiences that I would have never known otherwise, from attending college to taking hot showers. You nourish me with resources to help me grow. I often question why I was given a blessed second chance at life out of the many children who are labeled as a “mistake”, and hope that my contribution to this space that I inhabit will be one of value and pride. (Don't read my post about my experience with a dating app.)
Thank you for the garlic. Thank you for the entertainment. And thank you for my affinity for high-waisted jeans.
Analyze & Discuss
Would I have at least had a shot at an arranged marriage had I not been plucked from Bogota?