Of all the ills plaguing Americans today, from historic drought and skyrocketing homelessness to the ongoing and totally uncontested presence of concentration camps at the U.S. border, one stands head and shoulders above the rest: That’s right, cultural appropriation. Specifically, appropriation of Huy Fong Foods, Inc.’s crown jewel chili-sauce product, Sriracha.
When I opined to my friends that Sriracha theft was perhaps the worst form of cultural appropriation, at first they wanted to argue. “This seems more like a cut-and-dry case of cultural exchange,” they said, and, “You’re not even Asian so maybe you should sit this one out.” Those fools. Obviously I’m not talking about appropriation of Thai or Vietnamese culture.
I’m talking about appropriation of foodie culture.
I’m sick and tired of hearing non-foodies gush about Sriracha. I see you wearing that strutting cock on your t-shirts, getting the bottles tattooed on your legs, and using it to add a spicy kick that’s perfectly balanced by the lightest touch of sweetness to your meals. But for as much as you plebs claim to looooove Sriracha, I bet you can’t even name three other foods distributed by the important cultural touchstone that is the Huy Fong Foods, Inc. mega multinational corporation.
Go ahead. Tell me three other food products made by Huy Fong Foods, Inc. You can’t, can you? That’s what I thought. Just take your Trader Joe’s gentrifier rooster sauce and sit the fuck down for once.
What’s that? They only have two other products? Huy Fong Foods, Inc. was started in California and has only been around since the ‘80s? Wow, I guess you must speak for the entire foodie population!
It doesn’t stop there. I just know you’ve got some thoughts on Mexican hot sauces you’d like to share, hombre. Let me guess: you’ve been drinking Cholula from a bottle since you were a baby, think Valentina is only okay, and have either dated someone who dressed as the Tapatio guy for Halloween or have yourself dressed as the Tapatio guy for Halloween. Real cool. Just know that every bottle of El Yucateco that you purchase to show off how cultured and interesting you are is a bottle you’re taking right out of the hands of some innocent, starving, and far more deserving foodie, like me. How do you live with yourself?