This is an absolutely true story. This happened in the early 1990, when I arrived in the US as a refugee from Transnistria. Back then, the US didn't only accept war refugees, it actually welcomed them (well, we were white, which... yeah, helps) with some basic assistance...
https://twitter.com/HillsBrian/status/1509254272168435723
So, for example, we were given a bunch of donated clothing (I was always asked in school, which team I ACTUALLY rooted for: the Cubs, the Texas Rangers or the Chattanooga Lookouts, to which I invariably replied with my blankets looks) and a few other necessities...
Among them was a box that contained flour, sugar, some other unmistakeabke staples... and a large can without a label. We pried it open with a knife (the concept of an electric can opener was foreign), only to discover thick, viscous, brown paste inside, its purpose unclear...
After examining it, digging around with our fingers and even trying the taste (everyone agreed it was definitely not edible), my mother smartly seduced that, this being a cold time of the year, the paste was probably window caulk for winterizing the apartment...
It did look most suited for that very purpose, and we began applying it as such... until someone told us, "No, listen, Americans spread this on bread and eat it!"
We obviously thought this was a silly joke. Nobody could possibly consume something that looked, felt and tasted...
We obviously thought this was a silly joke. Nobody could possibly consume something that looked, felt and tasted...
... like an adhesive with a narrowly defined purpose. The mere thought of attempting to introduce the paste into the esophagus and further was revolting. Yet the more experienced immigrants were adamant. "They call this shit peanut butter. It's horrid, but our kids like it..."
One older immigrant even attempted to demonstrate to us that it indeed was an edible. He dipped his middle finger into the can, dug up a bit of the paste and licked it off.
"Fuck, ugh. Do you have any cognac?", he asked. "Anyway, as you can see, good American food. Kids love it"
"Fuck, ugh. Do you have any cognac?", he asked. "Anyway, as you can see, good American food. Kids love it"
As the can went tumbling into the trash bin, we asked the same immigrant as to the preparation method of the dry dandruff-like matter interspersed with a few raisins that we found in a colorful box.
"Ah! This is called see-ree-ahl. My kids love it", he said, not encouragingly...
"Ah! This is called see-ree-ahl. My kids love it", he said, not encouragingly...
"How do you prepare it?", we asked.
"You pour milk over it and eat it. It's a simple recipe", he said.
So, my mother went about preparing the exotic American meal of see-ree-ahl. First, she boiled up some milk (because you have to, unless you want to immediately die of cholera)
"You pour milk over it and eat it. It's a simple recipe", he said.
So, my mother went about preparing the exotic American meal of see-ree-ahl. First, she boiled up some milk (because you have to, unless you want to immediately die of cholera)
... then, she carefully poured the boiling milk over the soup plate containing the see-ree-ahl and invited me to try it. Probably because I was deemed the most resilient of the family members.
The resulting hot, sickly sweet mush was entirely inedible, despite the raisins...
The resulting hot, sickly sweet mush was entirely inedible, despite the raisins...
... which were then carefully picked out of the box and saved for later.
Thus, we were taught an important lesson: just because a country is a land of plenty where one doesn't have to stand in line for 500 g of "kolbasa", doesn't mean you can eat everything in it.
#TheMoreYouKnow
Thus, we were taught an important lesson: just because a country is a land of plenty where one doesn't have to stand in line for 500 g of "kolbasa", doesn't mean you can eat everything in it.
#TheMoreYouKnow
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