European friends often ask me to describe a typical American meal. Much to their surprise I tell them that there isn’t a typical American meal. It depends on where you live in the country. America is a country of immigrants.
I was reminded of this unique aspect of my country yesterday, while in the New Orleans area for an unexpected and necessary trip. I had the privilege of hearing story upon story of hog hunting, the best seasonings for crawfish, boudin balls, etouffee, and poutine, and the history of the expulsion of the Acadians—all told to me in thick Cajun accents.
As fascinating as NYC might be for a week, there’s so much more beyond the cement and skyscrapers. America is a thousand or more countries—-transplanted, diverse, beautiful, vast, mixed and still growing.
Café du Monde? Maybe. Maybe not.
But without a doubt, this is the land of lache pas la patate.
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