In Defense of America

Breakfast was particularly crowded the other morning which left me with no choice other than to make a new friend (sigh, new friends at 7am).

I made introductions and entertained very small talk while I ate my sunny-side egg up on a piece of sourdough bread.

My new friend, as it turns out, is an agriculture and food nutrition guy who is also from the Democratic Republic of Congo.  I watched him watch my runny spilly messy egg.

Finally, he could contain himself no longer, "in the Congo we cook our eggs before we eat them."  He explained that was minorly grossed out by what he was watching being consumed.

I held my tongue and didn't tell him what I thought of West African food.  Let's just say that there is a reason why there isn't a thriving West African foodie scene in your local neighborhood...