Whatever happened to the old “melting pot” idea, anyway?
The best Russian restaurant in New York suffered a tragic fire last week. Tatiana, on the Brighton Beach boardwalk, is not only a staple in the Russian-Jewish community of New York but a model of multicultural dining that should be a lesson to all critics of culinary culture mixing.
My favorite Tatiana dishes are the kani salad (Japanese), Khachapuri(Georgian) and pelmeni (finally, actually, Russian). They do it all and do it so well, even though all these dishes make this highly regarded Russian restaurant not all that Russian.
For the record, Tatiana has a lot of stellar, real, Russian dishes. Pickled herring, caviar, borscht, black bread and a lot of vodka, you can have a serious Russian meal there. But Tatiana has managed to perfect dishes from other cultures too. What’s wrong with that?
Cultural appropriation, especially when it comes to food, is good. It’s what we should want in our big, crazy melting pot.
It’s so boring to argue over whether food is exactly the way it’s been made for centuries or whether the chef has blood pure enough to make it. What do the culture police win at the end of it? The same food made the same way until the end of time?
Or is it really just about finding a way to berate white people?
Annnd WOOT, there it is. No matter, though. Until every last one of these sniveling diaper-smears swear off of White Guy life-enhancers like: air conditioning; indoor plumbing; refrigerators; planes, trains, and automobiles; the internet; American literature; German classical music; radio, teevee, and motion pictures; the cotton gin and its various end-products; iMacs, iPads, and iPhones; and scads and scads more, they can all go take a flying fuck at a rolling donut. Which, by the way, is yet another boon to mankind brought forth thanks to White-Guy imagination.
And when I say swear off, I mean for life, too. That’s MY culture you’re appropriating, bitches, and without so much as a thank-you either. So no backsliding without some sort of expression of your humble gratitude. Either acknowledge your debt for the innumerable contributions My People have made to your own personal ease, convenience, and happiness—or shut your fucking yap forever. Call it “reparations,” if that helps any.