Look, if you’ve just landed in Ghana, Rwanda, or Ethiopia and your first Google search is “best burger near me,” we need to talk.
Somewhere right now, an Igbo grandmother just dropped her ngiga in shock. You traveled 7,000 miles to have fries and ketchup?
This is not the time for pepperoni panic or mozzarella emotional support. This is the time for jollof rice, fufu, ugali, suya, and injera that slaps harder than your jet lag.
But alas, too many Americans board international flights with hearts full of culinary suspicion and suitcases packed with Tums, Imodium, and a ziplock bag of protein bars — just in case a single spice molecule touches their lips.
“Is it spicy?” they whisper, as if they’re entering a ghost pepper death match.
Yes. It’s spicy. And yes, it’s delicious.
Let’s unpack why we cross oceans only to wrap ourselves in comfort food blankies. Why we insist on dragging our flavor-phobic habits to places where food has been vibing for centuries without our approval.
Americans — Black, white, and everything in between — have been raised on a steady diet of cultural exceptionalism, where ketchup counts as a spice and ranch dressing is considered a dipping sauce for all seasons. From the time we could hold a chicken nugget, we’ve been spoon-fed the idea that our way is the way.
Our textbooks cheerlead Western history. Our movies portray other countries as either magical safari kingdoms or places where Liam Neeson has to rescue someone. Our news barely mentions international stories unless they directly involve an American tourist losing their passport or a volcano erupting somewhere near Bali.
We’ve been conditioned to believe that American equals normal. That everything else is a quirky detour from the main event, best observed with caution — and ideally from behind a pane of glass.
So when we travel abroad, it’s no surprise that some Americans arrive expecting the entire world to speak English, serve fries, and take Apple Pay.
This conditioning is why we’ll microwave a Hot Pocket filled with chemical cheese without blinking, but the moment someone offers us a hand-rolled ball of fufu with goat soup, we react like someone asked us to lick a live squid.
“Wait — you eat that with your hands?! Is there a fork version?”
As if sampling injera or dipping cassava into groundnut stew is some kind of United Nations violation.
The real issue? We’ve internalized the idea that other cultures are weird and ours is default — and that “normal” is whatever’s served at an Applebee’s in Topeka.
But here’s a thought: What if we weren’t the center of the culinary universe?
Next time you’re lucky enough to be in Ghana, skip the pizza and try these instead:
🍅 Jollof Rice — This isn’t “just rice.” It’s the Beyoncé of West African cuisine. Ghanaians take it seriously — tomatoey, savory, often paired with plantains or grilled chicken. And yes, there’s beef with Nigeria over who does it best.
🌿 Waakye — A hearty breakfast (or lunch, or dinner) of rice and beans cooked in dried millet leaves for an earthy kick. Usually topped with boiled eggs, plantains, spaghetti (yes, spaghetti), and sometimes enough meat to make a butcher blush.
👐🏽 Fufu & Light Soup — Fufu is a smooth, stretchy dough made from cassava and plantain. You scoop it into rich, spicy soups — no spoons, just soul.
🔥 Suya — Spicy, skewered grilled meat coated in a dry rub that could convert even the most loyal BBQ pitmaster. Ghana’s version of street food heaven.
🌾 Gari — Made from grated, dried cassava, it’s West Africa’s answer to grits — only better. Crunchy, versatile, and sneakily addictive.
The world is packed with amazing flavors, and none of them are waiting for ketchup’s blessing.
If your first instinct when handed a steaming bowl of goat stew is to ask, “Do you have chicken nuggets instead?” — you’re not just missing a meal. You’re missing the point.
Trying new food isn’t about being a foodie. It’s about humility. It’s about looking down at your plate and realizing, “Maybe my taste buds have been living in a gated community.”
It’s about unlearning what we thought was “normal,” and giving other cultures the respect of tasting — not just observing — them.
So next time you’re abroad, put the fries down. And let your mouth catch a flight too.
This post originally appeared on Medium and is edited and republished with author's permission. Read more of Jeffrey Kass' work on Medium.