FEBRUARY 27 • 2020 | 5 Views for openers At First Yuck E veryone has those special foods that remind them of home or childhood. But as you dig in and are “mmmm-mmmm”ing happily away, you might find that people around you don’ t quite share your enthusiasm. They’ re watching you incredulously, saying thing like, “How can you eat that? That’ s disgust- ing!” I grew up in Australia, and a childhood staple was toast with butter and Vegemite. Even today I have a jar of Vegemite in my pantry, and every so often I’ ll crack open the jar, take a whiff and be transported right back to my childhood. I also sometimes, just for kicks, stick it under my kids’ noses — I love their expressions of abject horror. Anyone who grew up outside Australia or England seems to agree that Vegemite looks like the black stuff they layer the roads with and smells even worse. It goes the other way, too. As a newbie, I hadn’ t tried some local foods until I made my home in Detroit. For example, I hadn’ t had seven-layer cake. The transition was easy; I describe it as love at first bite. It didn’ t, however, go as smoothly with root beer or Vernors, which gave me a strong taste of dental surgery gone wrong. One guy capitalized on this phenome- non. A while back, Samuel West of Sweden opened the doors to his “Disgusting Foods Museum.” People voluntarily part with their hard-earned money for the honor of exploring his collection of the world’ s most gruesome edible delights. His displays include fermented herring from Sweden, roasted guinea pigs and frog smoothies from Peru, the infamous stinky fruit from Thailand and century eggs (preserved for three months) from China. An entire sec- tion is dedicated to cheese alone, called the Altar of Stinky Cheese. Some of the foods can even be sampled. The entrance tickets are useable vomit bags, just in case. And, yes, if you’ re wondering, he cer- tainly does have a jar of Vegemite on dis- play. (It’ s not even the only Australian food they have. There are also Musk Sticks, a soft pink licorice that kind of resembles a thin squirt of toothpaste that smells like musk and tastes like it, too.) Food can be a very cultural experience. I’ ve been wondering if someone might fol- low Mr. West’ s example and open a “Jewish Foods Museum.” Of course, a whole sec- tion would be dedicated to fish — lox, gefilte, herring — and potfuls of steaming Jewish penicillin and an exhibit on matzah (carefully placed on a non-wooden, non-cardboard stand, so people don’ t get mixed up and eat the display). They could have a section devoted to each holiday, like fried everything for Chanukah and cheese everything for Shavuot. That famous nine-word summa- ry of all Jewish holidays can be the printed on the paper plates: “They tried to kill us; we won; let’ s eat.” To add to the true Jewish eating expe- rience, the museum could have a bubbie sitting there urging everyone, “Eat more! Eat more! Oy, you’ re much too thin!” (And in some cases, “ Are you single? Because I have a son …”) Of course, no one could possibly leave without making a l’ chaim with some Manischewitz wine and making a toast … to the challah. All would be welcome. Even Australians who might quietly slather some delicious Vegemite on that toast. A Special Friendship The Mobile station on the corner of Maple and Adams in Birmingham is much more than just a gas station. It’ s a refuge for many and represents a cohesive family. Kyle Hannawa, the station’ s owner, informed my husband and me of Bruce Kwaselow’ s death on Feb. 9. Bruce was an employee who walked from his nearby apartment to work each morning before 6 a.m. He was reliable, honest and loyal. With Bruce’ s death we all lost a friend; but Kyle lost a brother. I am reminded of the words in Proverbs: “There is a friend that sticketh closer than a brother. ” Kyle was that brother to Bruce. After Bruce became ill, Kyle would visit every day after work, combing Bruce’ s hair, helping him brush his teeth or do anything else that Bruce needed done. Kyle is Chaldean. Bruce was Jewish. Is there a different God for both of them? I think not. My heart ached when I saw Kyle at Bruce’ s funeral, officiated by Rabbi Rubenstein of Congregation Beth Ahm. Tears streamed down his cheeks as he tossed dirt onto Bruce’ s casket. We will miss Bruce. He asked for so little and gave so much. May his memory be for a blessing. And we ache for Kyle, who lost a friend and a brother. — Ruth Grimaldi Birmingham CORRECTIONS • In “Upheaval at WSU Press” (Feb. 20, page 24), Editor-in-Chief Annie Martin’ s last name was spelled incorrectly. Also, the three WSU Press leaders dismissed from their jobs were not escorted from their offices. • In “Brotherly Leadership” (Feb. 20, page 50), Zack Kirshner’ s last name was mis- spelled. Jason Gelsey is a member of Sigma Tau Gamma fraternity. Rochel Burstyn letters Kyle and Bruce