America is very good at several things and that's great.
We innovate in profound ways that effect the world. We discover. We entertain. We care.
We also create the world's best junk food and I think that this is a universal truth known the world over. We are craptastical creators of crap.
When I lived in Cairo, the only junk food I could find was an incredible version of rice pudding — roz bel laban (rose-bin-la-ban) made just a short walk down the road from my flat. It was glorious, always fresh, and came with optional toppings like fresh sultanas and dates. I worked very hard not to stop every day for a small container.
When I first moved to Kenya, there weren't any fast food restaurants and certainly no drive-thru's. Burger King, Dominos, KFC and the rest came about 3 years before I left and it sort of made me sad because I didn't want American junk food — I wanted American crap food.
Kenyan junk food was street food — grilled (BBQ'd) maize (corn-ish) and sugar cane chopped on the side of the road while you waited in traffic and served in small bags were two of my favorites as were the boiled eggs sold fresh and the peanut roasters. It was obviously a lot healthier than American junk food and was pretty much all that there was, save for UK chocolate brands, etc., until the franchises rolled in.
Singapore was all about fruit from all over the region and it was sold in markets along sidewalks and in grocery stores and ranged from the usual suspects like pineapple to the gorgeous dragon fruit to the delicious and absolutely stinky durian. (Durian is banned from all transportation systems and you must wear a glove when you eat it because the smell will permeate your skin and remain for weeks.)
Durian is equal parts creamy and delicious and disgusting. It's as if a decayed animal slept in a tree and the two got together and created the stinkiest food ever known that humans somehow feel compelled to eat.
The American snack options take treats to a whole different level. While I do not necessarily consume fruit that smells of semi-rotted flesh, I do consume fruits of various size, shape, and color particularly in the Summer months. I had forgotten about summer fruit — summer strawberries and berries and all of the rest. They are so incredibly delicious.
And then, very recently, I remembered Fritos.
The simple Frito is a deep fried extruded whole cornmeal crisp (potato chip Yankees) formed into shapes that are purposefully designed to hold copious amounts of salsa, guacamole, bean dip, and other such delicious elements. They are, quite possibly, one of the more perfect foods. Fritos are equal parts crunch, salt and carb, and would win if there were ever a crisp tasting contest.
Fritos are a perfect food and they deserve their own food group. #fritosforlife
The Frito aisle is part of the grocery store I do not walk down save for times of indulgence, anxiety, or inebriation because the aisle also houses all of the foods that every doctor in the world tells me to avoid.
Chocolate/coconut Kashi bars — absolutely.
Triscuits with sea salt — of course.
Lays potato chips with salt –the original ones.
Sweet potato crisps (they are not healthier — but it's fun to think that they are)
Double stuff oreos — cold from sitting in the fridge
Individual lemon (or fruit) pies that do not contain a single ounce of real lemon — of course.
Mrs. Field's soft chocolate chip cookies packaged to fit into a purse (so I'm told)
Endless options to feed the little voice in my soul that says "please feed me craptasticalness foods right now".
When I'm not avoiding entire aisles in the grocery stores (along with the still upsetting oversized fruit and vegetable sections), I am avoiding most petrol station mini-marts because I KNOW that it's Christmas inside and I will be surrounded by endless amounts of treats, bites, and sugar that are all wrong for my body but all right for my soul.
Being back in America is always an adventure of some sort because I have forgotten entire categories of food, shops, and experiences. I could say that I am an explorer, of sorts, rediscovering treasures buried deep in the forbidden aisles of supermarkets and mini-marts and discovering entirely new food groups that only America can invent.
I'm Magellan with a side of Cheetohs.
How much "soul food snack eating" is too much? How long can I, "eat this chewy, delicious whatever thing I found at the 7–11" because, "I just moved back?"
Asking for a friend.
YOU ARE READING
Tales of Repatriation
Historia CortaRebecca Chandler is a serial American expat who is forced to move home to Los Angeles after things go wrong during the COVID pandemic. Rebecca returns to America immediately immersed in "reverse culture shock" and feeling a bit overwhelmed by the...
