One of my readers had the good fortune to marry a classic American beauty from the Midwest and the misfortune of relocating to her home state of Indiana (she refers to it, tongue in cheek, as “the center of the universe”) in order to be near her family and friends.
A denizen of the East, well educated, liberal and highly creative (he is an artist and art teacher), he knew he would be a fish out of water, but, to his credit, he decided his wife’s happiness took priority over everything and plunged himself into this alien world.
He enjoys cooking and recently entertained his wife’s friends with a cocktail party for which he prepared his “silken” version of deviled eggs with sour cream, not mayo, bedecked by a strip of caviar on top, a dish that turns the phrase, “neither fish nor fowl” on it’s head. He was chagrined when his creations went largely unconsumed. Those assembled avowed they had never had caviar and were loathe to eat it. Apparently, according to Dear Reader, any recipe that is not limited to meat, corn and potatoes is regarded by these Midwesterners, as part of a communist plot to destroy the culture and to undermine traditional American values. Especially that Russian stuff. Most of the guests declined even to try it.
To these folks, my reader opined, anything new and different is suspect and to be avoided, be it in the culinary realm or any aspect of life. That’s why when Kamala says “we’re not going back” the red state residents reply, “sez you.”
“A truly exceptional culinary experience,” my reader wrote, ( and I ask you, what could be more exceptional than his creative egg delicacies?) “has the power to evoke emotions, challenge perceptions and broaden our cultural horizons.” None of these people, he notes, has ever traveled abroad or learned a foreign language. He pities them their provincialism and narrow mindedness as it negatively impacts their personal experiences and development as individuals as well as their politics. He pities the nation because these types assert so much influence on our national character and policies. This rejection of the new is of course the definition of conservatism. Unlike many of us so called Eastern elitists, he has met this force face to face, and, rightly, finds it both infuriating and terrifying.
I sent him my condolences and concurred with his conclusion that we are what we eat. Or don’t eat as the case may be.
Meanwhile, I may try his sophisticated version of this humble dish, though to be honest, I’m not much of a deviled egg fan. It’s unclear whether my spouse, whose history with food my regular readers know, might embrace or turn up her nose at those little fish eggs. Being frugal types we have not indulged in real caviar often in the past. She’s had it and, as I recall, liked it, but she doesn’t remember that. Just to be safe, if we try the recipe, maybe we should start with a few slugs of vodka or some champagne and then, nicely mellowed, move on to the eggs. On second thought, forget about the eggs. Let’s go straight to the caviar.
An Author's Inner Mind 