The Department of Balderdash, Flummery & Hokum
Veritas Optional Since Whenever
Editorial Meeting for the Freedom 250 Patriot Cookbook
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Title: Chief Cooking Officer
Fineprint: Who needs to eat anyway?
Mode: menu
Okay team, it falls to us to assemble the greatest menu of American dishes ever comb-bound into a booklet to be sold in every National Park gift shop across these beautiful fifty states. Now, we’re not worrying about writing recipes—we’ve got AI for that—all we need to do is pick the list of dishes that have made America great.
We need to be sure these dishes do not… let me check my notes here, ah yes: “inappropriately minimize the value of certain historical events or figures. Or include any other improper partisan ideology… Or contain descriptions, depictions, or other content that inappropriately disparage Americans past or living (including persons living in colonial times), and instead focus on the greatness of the achievements and progress of the American people or, with respect to natural features, the beauty, abundance, and grandeur of the American landscape.”^[whitehouse.gov] Everybody got that? Okay, let’s see what you’ve come up with.
First up, the hamburger. We like the whole Roman Empire origin story of this one, it feels very “of the moment,” very manosphere approved; and we like the long history of competitive entrepreneurship that goes along with claiming to have invented the modern burger. But we can’t get over the name. Hamburg is German, America is American. Cut it.
Next, the hot dog. Also known as the frankfurter. Like Frankfurt. Are you seeing a problematic theme here? Very immigrant-y, very European. No, we can’t just call it a weiner, way too gay. Pass.
Now we have corn. Simple, delicious, highly processed into soluble sugars that make up most of what we find in the grocery store, native to North America… What’s the problem you ask? Well, does Hun Hunahpu ring a bell? Centeotl? No? Those are Mayan and Aztec corn gods. GODS, people. We can’t include Mexican deities in this cookbook—not unless we’re also asking readers to take a bite of Jesus Christ, for chissakes. (We don’t have communion wafers on the list, do we? No? Good. Way too Catholic.)
And next, we have… Really? The corn dog? A communist meat phallus encased in Mesoamerican spiritualism, are you insane? Did you just black out for the last five minutes? No, no, no.
Next! Fondue? With the little pointy sticks and the candle? Too European, too metrosexual, if you catch my drift. And I’m really not loving the whole melting pot iconography.
A tossed salad? Now that is funny. Thanks for the chuckle. NEXT.
Hmmm, cole slaw. Now, I like the mythological origins of the first cabbages springing out of the ground from the drops of Zeus’s sweat, that’s metal. But the name comes from “koolsla,” which is Dutch. You know, the little kissing guys with the tulips and the wooden shoes? The one with his finger in a dyke? I think I’ve said enough here. Cut it.
Apple pie, ugh, this was a tough call, but you’re surely all aware apples originated in Kazakhstan? We don’t want Borat food in this volume, do we? Funny movie though. My wiiiiife? Classic.
Okay, vanilla ice cream. Well, easy to cut if we cut the pie. And did you know ice cream parlors were once implicated in the white slave trade? No kidding, it was all very Pizzagate. Q Anon before Q. Trust the plan, right y’all? But let’s skip the ice cream.
Southern fried chicken? You mean West African palm oil-fried chicken? You mean slavery chicken? No, I don’t think we’ll be including that. While you’re at it, let’s take out barbeque, gumbo, jambalaya, watermelon, shrimp and grits, gherkins, hominy, hushpuppies, black-eyed peas, red beans and rice—actually, how about all rice—oysters, greens—yep, all greens—peanuts, and okra.
Pizza. Not even going to dignify that one with commentary.
Homemade 4 Loko? Are you loco? Love the energy, literally, but no. ¡No!
I think this goes without saying, but we need the “french fry” rebrand. We don’t call them “freedom fries” with a little ironic smirk any more like we did after 9/11 when we were all pissed at France. We’re very serious about frying freedom these days.
Why focus on fries anyway, when we can include potato chips and the timeworn story of Commodore Cornelius Vanderbilt and George Crum! The Commodore wanted his frites thinner and crispier, and the African American-Native American cook in the Crum’s kitchen retributively shaved them to papery nubbins and threw them into hot oil—to the Commodore’s utter delight! We cannot tell you how much we love this story about a titan of American industry getting his way, pulling one over on a Black, Native woman whose name we’ve never learned. What’s that? The story is made-up?! All the better to include, in order to restore truth and sanity to our national table.
So… we’ve got chips. That’s good, actually. Streamlined. Finally, let’s consider the cover. What about an ourobos? You know—the snake eating itself? It’s kind of perfect, actually. Chowing down on its own tale. But the name is so Greek, so dated. I’ve got it boys: still a circle, but let’s make it a donut with googly eyes instead. And red, white, and blue jimmies.
Hot damn, we’re done. Send it to the printer and let’s go celebrate with some sweet Kentucky bourbon! What, that’s corn-based too? And the aged oak barrels come from trees that originally evolved in central Europe? Yuck. Forget it, I’ll just be thirsty. Great work here. I guess. Woo USA.
Andrea Cavedo's writing has appeared in McSweeney’s, Chestnut Review, HAD, and others; she won Foofaraw's inaugural Ordinary Contest, and has been a semifinalist for The Sewanee Review's Fiction, Poetry & Nonfiction Contest. For the last decade she has taught history and government to Chicago high school students. Find her online at www.andreacavedo.com.