Last week, I had a dream about a roving band of door-to-door chefs that called themselves delishionaries (I’m just as amazed as you by the wittiness of my dreams).  To be honest, I don’t remember the details of the dream, only that I felt the need to make note of the name because I cracked myself up in my sleep and wanted to remember it when I woke up the next day.

That morning, I began to think more about the concept of delishionaries and how amazing that would be.  A random knock on my door around dinner time and a little Mexican grandmother asking me if I’d like to hear the good news of burritos.  Or a Chinese chef asking if I had accepted General Tso as my personal lord and savior (For the record, I have).  Now I’m certainly not limiting this concept to ethnic foods.  I would cry tears of joy if a big dude from Memphis asked if I had been saved by pork ribs.

This all reminds me of a time back when my wife, kids and I lived in a small apartment in Colorado and we would regularly receive visits from a sweet old Jehovah’s Witness woman (usually joined by a young man in a short sleeve dress shirt and tie) who wanted to talk Jesus and share copies of the Watchtower.  After consecutive Sundays of visits, I decided to gather a few things from my Unitarian Universalist church to do a little religion swap.  As she handed me the latest Watchtower, I handed her the latest copy of UU World.  The look on her face seemed less than impressed.

I imagine if the delishionaries came to my house and I responded the same way, they would be similarly disappointed.  “Thank you for the collard greens and fried chicken.  Here are my overcooked pork chops.”  On the other hand, maybe they would be just fine with it.

There is great joy in splitting bread and sharing a meal with someone else, especially someone completely different than you.  While the quality of the food is important (I apologize ahead of time for what I bring), the overall meal itself will be the part that is most remembered – the conversation, the sharing of traditions, the learning of someone else’s life, culture and family.

Our modern society has become hardwired on the “us versus them”.  Focusing on our differences  – color, country, politics, income, immigration status, etc. – has, for many people, become a pastime and a defining segment of their own characters.  In essence, they have become so locked into being the opposite of “them” that they lose sight of what makes themselves part of humanity at large.

Maya Angelou once said “Eating is so intimate. It’s very sensual. When you invite someone to sit at your table and you want to cook for them, you’re inviting a person into your life.”

I’d like to think that this would be the main focus of the delishionaries.  Yes, the food would be great, but, as you say your goodbyes, you’re left with more than a full stomach.  You’re left with the feeling that you connected with someone you may have little in common with.  A human being who is now more than just an anonymous picture that needs to fit into the uninformed frame you have in your mind.  They are now a conversation, a shared laugh or an empathetic voice.

I hope we each get the knock of a delishionary on our collective doors one day.  Or, better yet, be the knock on someone else’s door.