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Peddling Food

Summer 2010-Saraghina Brooklyn
Red Hook Lobster Pound-Prospect Park
The Republic of Brooklyn is where I fully embraced being southern and where I pried open my mental recipe box. The borough of over two million people is home. It’s the place where I hop on my blue vintage Ross Bike with a sturdy wicker basket and drive off to buy a lobster roll. 

For most dixie expats, moving up North is followed by prickling whispers. Instead of asking, "How's life in the big city?"; folks eye our facebook food porn and assume we kicked fried chicken. Dinner plates devoid of golden neckbones become our kin's unuttered thoughts about who we are. Our new virtual rituals erase cousins together mixing kool-aid packets and frolicking to Ms. Candy Lady - without a conversation. The truth is migration brings one closer to "the foundation" but distance from blood who never understood. So what, we prefer baristas creating latte art and Brazilian style collard greens? 
We are still grounded Southerners, who speak loudly, proudly and classic city girls born in the land of bulldogs, frosted orange drinks and mounds of small town charm.
In Ralph Ellison's  Invisible Man, the unnamed main character leaves the deep south for the land of milk and honey.  A city where one can get blood out of turnips and vivid dreams come true. Like many, the protagonist labors, toils and contemplates his value in New York and is reminded by a sweet potato vendor that when you are rooted - it's very hard to back peddle.

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