The Porch's beignets and I go back a long way. The swine-shaped, deep-fried dough taught me the true meaning of "oral pleasure." Served with fresh fruits, a sinful amount of powdered sugar and a side of fig jam, they emboldened me to live life to the fullest, one beignet at a time. My affinity for them in the past couple years had remained strong and steady.......until last month.
I was having brunch there with my ex-coworker, an older gentleman whom I'd always admired and looked up to as a father figure (and still do). Three beignets into our conversation, he announced he was going to vote for Trump. "Seriously?" said I, astounded. I listened to his reasoning calmly, respectfully, even though I was inconsolably crying inside. No amount of beignets could ever comfort me. I'd always known he was a republican, and that was fine. Our different ideologies had never hindered our friendship. But Trump? TRUMP?
For a little while, we exchanged our conflicting opinions. But then, knowing that no matter what I said or how I said it could ever change his mind, I diverted the subject. We went on to discuss his upcoming road trip, his daughter's exorbitant mortgage, and the incredible flavor of my fig jam. We didn't fight. No beignets were hatefully thrown across the table. We parted peacefully and agreed to meet again after his road trip.
But still, it felt like that eye-opening moment when a child realizes their superhero dad is just a mere human after all. Also, it's quite true that a traumatic event can leave a long-lasting imprint on our minds and affect how we experience certain realities. Because of this incident, next time I eat those cute piggy beignets, they'll probably taste kind of bitter.