From left: elote corn from La Baja Cocina Mexicana; George Formaro’s pizza with roasted squash and sage; chicken soup with quail eggs, greens and vermicelli from MinGaLaBar Burmese Kitchen. (Photos: Duane Tinkey) Editor’s note: George Formaro is a local chef, food historian, dsm Tastemaker a nd culinary mastermind behind Centro, South Union Bread Cafe, Gateway Market and Zombie Burger. He posted the following essay on his Facebook page on June 23, 2026, between other deep dives into soul food and the great American hot dog. We’re republishing a lightly edited version here with his gracious permission. By George Formaro As we approach the 250th anniversary of the United States, I’ve found myself thinking less about politics and more about the table. Food has always told the story of who we are. Long before there was an America, there were people here cultivating crops and harvesting countless other foods that would eventually change the way the world eats. The story of American food begins there. Everything else builds upon that foundation. America’s food story is not simple. It is a story of triumph and tragedy. Opportunity and hardship. Migration and displacement. Freedom sought and freedom denied. Yet somehow, through all of it, people gathered around tables. They planted seeds. They baked bread. They preserved traditions. They adapted. They shared. And from those countless kitchens emerged something uniquely American. As we move toward the Fourth of July, I’ve been thinking about the tables that helped build this country. The first table belongs to Indigenous America. Corn. Beans. Squash. Wild rice. Maple. Game. Fish. Berries. Without Indigenous knowledge, much of what followed would not have been possible. The next table belongs to the colonists who arrived carrying recipes from England, Scotland, Ireland, Germany, Holland, France and elsewhere. America changed those recipes. Corn thrived. Pumpkins found their way into old traditions. New ingredients shaped old cuisines. Then comes Amelia Simmons and “American Cookery,” published in 1796. It’s the first cookbook written by an American and published in the United States, a bridge between the Old World and the New. It marks one of the first moments when American ingredients began speaking with an American voice. Another table belongs to African American foodways. No honest history of American food can be told without recognizing those contributions. Rice. Okra. Greens. Barbecue. Peanuts. Seafood traditions. Agricultural knowledge. Soul food is more than recipes. It is resilience, family, creativity, survival and joy. Then come the great waves of immigration. German bakers. Italian cheesemakers. Jewish deli owners. Greek diner operators. Chinese railroad workers. Mexican families. Lebanese and Syrian merchants. Polish butchers. Vietnamese restaurateurs. Korean entrepreneurs. Every group left fingerprints on the American table. Then came industrial America. Railroads. Commercial bakeries. Refrigeration. Canneries. Diners. Lunch counters. Drive-ins. Fast food. Some traditions were lost. Others became available to more people than ever before. And then there is Regional America. New England. The South. The Midwest. The Southwest. The Pacific Coast. Alaska. Hawaii. Every region tells its own story. Every region has something worth celebrating. Gumbo. Lobster rolls. Wild rice soup. Cheesesteaks. Barbecue. Tex-Mex. Loose meat sandwiches. Coney dogs. Deep-dish pizza. Tavern pizza. Today, America’s table may be the most diverse in its history. A single city block can contain foods from every continent. Pho and barbecue. Kimchi and fried chicken. Tacos and burgers. Sushi and pizza. Biryani and brisket. America continues to cook, borrow, adapt and innovate. That process never stops. Two hundred and fifty years is not a very long time in the history of civilization. We’ve experienced wars, depressions, division, injustice, triumphs, mistakes and moments of extraordinary courage. The American story remains complicated. But hope remains. Hope has always remained. You can see it in every generation that arrived seeking something better. You can see it in every family recipe passed down through time. You can see it in every garden planted, every loaf baked, every holiday meal shared. Food reminds us of something important. Before we argued, we ate together. Before we voted, we gathered around tables. Before we agreed or disagreed, we were neighbors. America’s food story is not finished. The next chapter is already being written. And if history tells us anything, it is that there will always be room at the table for one more story. As our nation approaches its 250th birthday, I hope we take a moment to appreciate not only where we came from, but the countless people who helped bring us here. I love this country. Not because it has always gotten everything right. It hasn’t. But because generation after generation has continued to pull up another chair, set another place at the table and add another chapter to the story. The next course is already on its way. Let’s eat. ...read more read less