Food Pride

It was love at first bite

Every special occasion in my life has been marked by a nice meal or very memorable dessert. It’s how I feel and show love. I was raised this way and it’s one of the practices from my childhood that I carried with me into my adult life. Food is, obviously, central to our survival but it’s also central to all our celebrations and parties. Invite me somewhere and my very first question is going to be about the food situation. The spread, or lack thereof, will immediately tell you more about the vibe than any decor ever could.  Food gives the occasion a purpose; otherwise, why the hell are we all standing awkwardly in a room together? This could’ve been a group chat. Julia Child was right- a party without a cake is just a meeting, and a meeting without snacks is one I don’t want to attend either. 

protesting the passage of Prop 8 wayyyy back in 2008. excuse my awkward smile.

June marks Pride Month here in the US, a time to celebrate love and remember how far we’ve come since the Stonewall riots that kicked off the modern gay rights movement in June 1969. I never go to the parades- entirely too many people and not enough food for my liking. That means I don’t really do anything at all to mark the occasion other than maybe slap a rainbow button on when I head out to grab groceries. It’s the absolute least and I don’t think that’s gonna cut it anymore. LGBTQIA+ rights are getting rolled back all over this country so this might be the time for me to celebrate Pride and make a little food for the occasion. Food is the only way I know how to party and cooking has always been how I show that I care. Luckily, my wife is on the same page.

Kyria and I met during the pandemic. I took COVID very seriously, both out of concern for my health and the health of those around me. But what kept me in quarantine long after my friends and colleagues- if I’m being totally honest-  was my fear of losing my taste for an undetermined amount of time while I was still under contract to deliver two cookbooks. I had too many recipes to work on and no one to help if I couldn’t taste anything for weeks or months. I wasn’t gonna risk it. So while we got to know each other over text and awkward Zoom dates, Kyria and I didn’t meet in-person right away. I needed to trust her. Thankfully she worked in the medical field and was one of the first in line to be vaccinated despite her low exposure risk. She was like the cool kid in high school with a brand new car. When we finally set a date, I volunteered to cook. I invited her to my place for pasta with red sauce and a big salad; a simple meal but a classic for a reason. Kyria showed up at my door with a bushel of rainbow carrots in lieu of a bouquet of flowers and charmed my fucking face off. She got it right away. Food was going to be our love language.

Kyria is an enthusiastic eater with an adventurous palate. When she really likes something, she will close her eyes and gleefully rock side to side, as she savors whatever she’s eating. Her eyelids flutter and a soft smile appears on her face between bites. As you can imagine, this is exactly the kind of response someone who cooks wants. It feels like winning a gold medal every single time. She has very specific food cravings, just like me, and dreaming up recipes to satisfy those tastes is my favorite way to spend an afternoon. I’ll bring little tasters wherever she’s working in the house to see how close I am before going back to tinker some more with the dish. She’s surprised every time. Her delight at being included in the process is endearing even if her feedback takes some coaxing. I’ve spent years cooking alone or for a rotating cast of indifferent diners who would rather take a pill than eat a beautiful meal. Cooking for someone who loves food is like breathing fresh air for the first time. It was love at first bite.

My last book Hungry As Hell was written for my wife and filled with recipes I cooked for her during our courtship and eventual marriage last year. I dreamed up dishes with her on our walks with the dog, as we fell asleep next to one another, and while we laughed on long car rides. It might always be my favorite cookbook for that reason alone. I feel like you can taste our happiness in each recipe. As the world opened back up, we took our love of food out into the world. Dumplings, bhel puri, dan dan noodles, laphet thoke, dosas- you name it. Los Angeles is a great place to live if you love to eat. It might cost too much to travel all over the world right now, but Malaysia and El Salvador are only a few blocks and a few dollars away in LA. Kyria doesn’t bat an eye when I want to try a burrito spot inside a gas station or won’t stop suggesting zhengyalov hatz for lunch despite the best spot for them being an hour drive across the city. She knows that it means I love her and want us to eat something amazing together. We memorize all the flavors and I update my mental rolodex for applications in future recipes. Annie Dillard wrote “How we spend our days is, of course, how we spend our lives.” If that’s the case, I’m feeling pretty good about this marriage. Every meal just deepens our affection for one another.

Neither Kyria nor I grew up thinking we would ever be able to marry women. The 80’s and 90’s were not a time where gay joy was celebrated in popular culture despite how nostalgia might alter our memories. Gay suffering was all we saw. I grew up in the Bay Area and even as we learned about the AIDS epidemic and saw the quilt, my teachers couldn’t be out and proud. People whispered enough as it was. Smear the queer was still a completely acceptable school yard game and despite my femme appearance, I got called a dyke by rude religious kids whenever I was a little too assertive. Ellen got canceled for coming out and Rosie O’Donnell pretended to have a crush on Tom Cruise every afternoon. Matthew Shepard’s murder and the horrifying national conversation surrounding it scared the shit out of anyone with a queer bone in their body. Gay marriage wasn’t even legal until I was well into adulthood. Kyria also grew up in seemingly liberal places like Queens and Southern California but location rarely trumps culture. She was raised as a Jehovah's Witness and I don’t need to explain what that experience would be like for someone who has always known what was in their heart. The message was clear to all of us: if you have a choice, be anything but gay. It will make your life much easier. Don’t ask, don’t tell. 

all giggles after our intimate wedding

Sometimes it’s hard to believe how far we’ve come in my little lifetime. I know the bigoted assholes are busy trying to make the world a more hateful place, but I don’t think that’s what is in most people’s hearts. So many of us have changed over these decades, whether it’s learning about gender expressions and identity, where we are on the Kinsey Scale, or simply that not everything other consenting adults do requires our approval. We’ve all grown so much. Have pride in how far you’ve come. We shouldn’t let anybody, including radical governors and overzealous school administrators, take that progress away. Love has changed my life and I want everyone to have that same opportunity, wherever they can find it. The simple pleasure of cooking and eating with the person you love can be a lifesaving balm after decades of being less than yourself. We should all get that. So this Pride month, cook up something beautiful and celebrate all that we have done and still have left to do for LGBTQIA+ rights in this country. I might not come to your parade, but I will definitely swing through your potluck with my wonderful wife right beside me. But I will ask what’s on the menu first.

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To kick off this Pride month, Stir the Pot will be hosting its very first giveaway for paid subscribers. Here is how to enter: be on my paid subscriber list! That is it, I'm too tired to make it more complicated. I will randomly select the winners from the founding members and paid subscriber lists. The winners will be announced on June 15th.

If you are a winner, I will reach out and ask for a mailing address to send your gift package to. Or more likely Kyria will. Again, I’m tired. They will be full of some of my current favorite ingredients and kitchen tools so you don’t want to miss this. Not on the list? Come on baby! 

Thank you for spending another read with me. Our general subscriber numbers here at Stir the Pot are increasing every day. The more of you that take that next step and become paid subscribers, the more I can keep expanding the offerings here. If you are not a paid subscriber you can always just support this single essay and call it a day. No matter your level of support, I appreciate you very much.

xoxo,

Michelle