So what is a food column doing in an LGBT Newspaper? What’s so gay about food? Is there such a thing as a gay restaurant and, if there is, what makes it so? These and other crucial questions weighed heavy on my mind over the Labor Day weekend.

Well, like it or not, the two things I have in common with every other person on the planet is that my heart beats and I breathe air. In order to sustain this tedious activity, otherwise known as life, I need fuel, but, just as breathing is about more than just a simple exchange (corpuscles releasing carbon dioxide in return for oxygen), eating is about a little more than just refueling. No, eating has always played a social role–the tilling of the land, the breaking of bread with a stranger, the feast at times of spiritual significance, the business lunch, the romantic dinner and, yes, even the grisly Thanksgiving carnage–and so it is in our LGBT community.
Take, for example, the annual LGBT Pride Celebration. No gay Pride would be complete without some crappy meat on a stick or, for others, a desiccated veggie burger. Not exactly healthy eating, but we must allow that on a day when we traditionally let it all hang out, our otherwise impeccable good taste (necessarily) goes out the window.

It is not uncommon for my LGBT brothers and sisters to speak to me of their impeccable good-taste and discernment, usually in the context of critiquing my home décor, wardrobe or, even more brutally, my hair. I know of not a living soul that has ever been bold enough to critique (negatively) my cooking, but judging by their pronouncements about food in general, most appear to have graduated from the culinary academy with honors. The point I am making, albeit somewhat circuitously, is that LGBT folks are more deliberate about what they eat and why. Aside from issues like fat and cholesterol based on fears around weight gain and the loss of sexual appeal (if one happens to be a grotesque four pounds overweight) we’re also generally more health conscious. We veer away from genetically altered and fast food and in favor of organic produce. Think about it. How many times have you gone out with a “straight crowd” (if at all) and while they have been gorging on such calorie-packed delicacies as Philly Cheese Steak you have munched on a healthy salad?

All well and good, you might think, but the more insidious effect of this certainty is that I have yet to meet a queer who didn’t think s/he knew the difference between good food and bad. One need only look at the queue outside the ghastly Tartine to know of what I speak. On my last pass-by I noticed an otherwise stylish queen eating what could have been an almond croissant that had been so badly maimed in their oven that not even a heavy snowfall of powdered sugar could conceal the ugly blackening of third degree burns. The sad fact is that although, as a community, we may seek a healthier, ethical diet, the desire to fit in betrays the taste buds of many who follow the herd to Pasta Pomodoro or some such god-awful place.

At places such as these, those wearing an unremarkable Abercrombie t-shirt and sporting an unremarkable haircut, listening to some unremarkable music on an unremarkable iPod can enjoy some unremarkable pasta. Not that there is anything wrong with that, or homogenized milk for that matter, but our community is surely all communities, and that includes Italian, Asian, Mexican and even French (food). In a city of LGBT refugees, this multifariousness doesn’t have to blend into a bland Irish stew or even manifest itself as an insipid fettuccine Alfredo. Rather, it provides the possibility for creative fusion and, for those who are interested, the chance to experience the abundance of things yummy that the queer universe has on offer. “Gay food” should mirror our queer heritage of the open-minded and the adventuresome.

When I was young (a dim memory, I will admit), “gay food” wasn’t that adventuresome at all, and was identified simply as quiche. In fact, a fondness for quiche was one of the more polite euphemisms used to infer sexual proclivity, for men at any rate. Vegetarian, Vegan and, more directly, “bean-eater” were the terms used to suggest that a woman might have Sapphic tendencies. I am glad to say that things have moved on since then, and while the Mung Bean salad may remain a favorite at Wombyn’s Potlucks, good healthy ingredients, prepared with creative flair and enjoyed in the company of kindred spirits seems to me to be the essence of modern day queer cuisine.

So, when you are next anticipating refueling, pause and reflect upon the old adage, “you are what you eat” and see what that is. Today, I chose to be an arugula and goat cheese salad. What about you?

Next week ….. “Is there such a thing as a Gay Restaurant anymore?”