Friday, October 6, 2023

Word: Gastrodiplomacy

 

gastrodiplomacy

[ gas-troh-di-ploh-muh-see ]
noun
  1. the strategic promotion of a nation's cuisine to build diplomatic connections and favorable public relations for that nation, such as by funding grants to open restaurants, create food-oriented workshops, publish cookbooks, etc.

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                   Glick was annoyed, but he managed to keep it from showing. Not that an ignorant human would be able to tell his emotions. They were little more than evolved primates, even by the standards of a young species. Really, there were so many better enterprises that were more worth his time than humans. But, his boss had seen something in them. Some opportunity for profit.

                   Across from him sat several humans. Glick had to think to remember the difference between sexes. Only two sexes. What kind of sentient species only had two sexes? It was enough to make his stomachs churn. There were three humans, two males and one female. All were clothed in what Glick supposed was nicely for their species. Not that he could tell. One of the males was older, the other was quite a bit rounder around the middle, while the female look almost unremarkable in every way Glick could think of.

                   “Thank you for meeting us.” The older male said. “My name is Adam Heathe. My associates are Janet Miller and Kevin Steppe.”

                   The female and large male nodded when the elder gave their names. Glick mentally parsed the information. It took him a moment to remember the protocol and cultural information.

                   “I am Glick, senior vice manage of acquisitions of Bright Star Enterprises.” He said. “I hear you have some potential business for us?”

                   “We do.” Mr. Heathe said.

                   “And what is the nature of this business?”

                   “Cuisine.” The female, Mrs. Miller, said. “We humans have a long and diverse history of food preparation, and we would love to share it with the galactic community. We have plans for a wide variety of culinary cultures from all areas of the planet.”

                   Glick kept himself from showing his lack of interest. The species was not even a million years old. How could they have anything resembling good food? With any luck some of the local ingredients could be used by real chefs, but he doubted it.

                   “Really?” Glick said, feigning interest. “Well, it’s always exciting to see what each species can create on a plate. Do you have any samples?”

                   “Of course.” Mr. Steppe said. “We’ve brought a number of samples, ranging from high class dining to simple street food. We’ve also prepared a list so you can see roughly what’s in each one. Don’t worry, we’ve cleared everything with the bio boys. Nothing we brought will poison you.”

                   “Very good.” Glick was handed a basic data pad with the needed information. He would probably discard it later, but he had to at least pretend to be interested. “Where would you recommend I start?”

                   “With one of my personal favorites.” Mr. Steppe said, patting his rotund middle. “A nice slice of pizza.”

                   “Which I still say you need to lay off of.” Mrs. Miller said quietly. The comment was ignored.

                   “It’s a simple food. Common in most areas, with each nation having it’s own variety.” Mr. Heathe said. “We’ve brought one of the simplest and most popular varieties. A simple, common New York style cheese slice.”

                   A cart, driven by a simple drone, was brought it. On it was a pale, roughly triangular item. It looked bland to Glick. He wondered how such a dull looking thing would become popular with any reasonable species. He muscled down his distaste and took hold of it by the wider, slightly rounded end. It was floppy and a few beads of liquid, probably some sort of oil, dripped off it. Glick wanted nothing more than to toss it aside and leave. But, he still took a bite.

                   It was like nothing he had ever tasted before. A symphony of flavors, both simple and bold. A savory outer layer undercut by a sweety, tangy paste underneath. It was that and so much more. It was…divine in a way. He barely noticed the looks the three humans exchanged with each other.

                   “This…this is available anywhere?” He asked, almost reverently.

                   “Most places, yes. There are eateries dedicated to just pizza in most large cities.” Mr. Heathe said.

                   “Where I’m from, you have a pizza place on damn near every corner.” Mr. Steppe chimed in.

                   “It’s incredibly versatile.” Mrs. Miller said. “What you just ate is almost the default, if such a thing can be said to exist. You can put other things on top of the cheese in a huge number of combinations. Plus, there are other styles and methods of cooking. Our chefs can easily create a type of pizza for each species of the galactic community, provided they get access to the proper ingredients.”

                   “I…I see.” Glick said. He shook, trying very hard not to seem desperate for another bite.

                   “Do you want to finish that, or shall we move onto the next entry in our taste test?” Mr. Heathe asked.  

                   “I suppose we should, yes.”

                   “Very good. Our next entry is equally versatile. It can even be put on pizza, although our health experts say not to. It’s called bacon.”

                   As another cart was wheeled out, Glick gazed almost longingly at the newest offering. Maybe these humans were worth doing business with after all. 

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    If you're going to try and make a good impression on aliens, then you damn well better start with pizza and bacon. Those are what you use to sink the hooks in, and then reel them in with everything else. 

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