even though I saw her throwing handfuls of MSG into my food...

Last Friday, as Tien has mentioned, was Loyola's Country Fair. There were tables set up with students representing a decent parcel of the globe, and many of them featured food from their country's respective culture. Samples ranged from Guatemalan rice pudding, assorted delicious spicy mushes to be eaten with fingers from Ethiopia, fried noodles from the Philippines, waffly looking desserts from Belgium, Italian hazelnut gelato, Chilean empanadas con queso o carne y pebre, "American" gumbo, etc..... I wondered as I walked around, sniffed and sampled, exactly how many of Pollan's rules were being broken by the tables collectively. And I didn't really care.

I remember before I started making going abroad a semi-regular thing, I was extremely health-conscious, mostly due to my father's anti-white-flour-and-high-fructose-corn-syrup brainwashing throughout my childhood. On my first true international experience aside from random vacationing in the Caribbean I was volunteering in Belize and our meals were prepared by a Belizan cook. As often as I could before it was already dumped on my plate, I told her I didn't want the white rice; I remember it breaking her rhythm. I also only very hesitantly would eat the Jiffy peanut butter (loaded with high fructose c.s.) we had as an on-the-go lunch option. I grumbled to myself about white bread--basically my steadfastness to my health principles was making meal time an unenjoyable experience, uncomfortable for the host, and setting me apart from the rest of the group (though a bit less so than the no-gluton dieter) that would just say "thank you" and eat eagerly. Eventually my resolve to eating healthy was overpowered by my desire to eat like the rest of the group and be glad for food and the sharing of it. Since that experience, and my more intensive year in Chile in which my host mom Tatiana would stress that though we did not always have very much or very delicious foods to eat, there would always be something on our plates and made with love at that, I have viewed food very differently. Sure, little pieces of sliced hot dog over pasta, instant mashed potatoes, single ingredient salads were not my favorites. But I was culturally engaged in eating as they did and bonded to my host family by the sentiments behind the food. It no longer became important if the bread was white or whole grain, but that we had it and were eating together, a shared moment of relaxation.

I guess what I am getting at is that I hope to never be such a healthy eater that it interferes with my ability to receive hospitality. Food is as much symbolic as it is literal.