“Don’t yuck someone else’s yum” was the first thought that crossed my mind when the lukewarm glass jar of pickled god-knows-what was placed on my desk. Immediately, I began examining my “weird” food as if it was artwork in a modern art museum — What is it? What is it’s purpose? Why am I supposed to be looking at it? Initially, from first glance, my “weird” food looked like pickled chicken feet, but after closer examination I came to the conclusion that this was some sort of vegetable I was dealing with rather than some sort of butchered meat product. For me, this eased my inceptive disgust and opposition to the mysterious food. What gave away its vegetable classification was its grainy and maize-like texture which seemed to resemble a reptile at…show more content… Even the packaging of my “weird” food was completely alien to me. In a yellow tinted liquid, it sat tightly packed in its glass show case with its thick head reaching all the way to the top — almost compressed to the roof — and its stringy tentacles brushing the bottom.
I was still not one-hundred percent certain of the meat or plant identity of this food, so naturally — in attempt to familiarize myself with my “weird” food a little better — I decided to get on a first name basis with it. According to the labelling, my food’s name is “Pacaya” which led me to believe I was among a Hispanic friend. I verified this assumption easily thanks to the helpful and informative marketing label which read “Hispanic’s favorite cuisine.” At first, the world “favorite” did not resonate well with me because how could such a bizarre, damp, unappetizing food hold such social prestige among a large cultural group. As much as this confused me, it also opened me up to believe that this food might be more edible that I originally assumed. Perhaps, I was comforted knowing that this food was trusted to be palatable by