Each year, for the holidays, all the food at the table would celebrate and have a wonderful time. Gravy would pair with the mashed potatoes and sometimes the butter, turkey would be stuffed with celery, onions, and pieces of bread … pie would get whipped cream … ham had pineapples on it … green beans were mixed with several things in a casserole! Every food loved being part of the holiday table.

They all knew that their ultimate goal was to be delicious and make it down the long, wet slide to Stomach-Land.

One year, a new food was introduced: Rice. It wasn’t just plain white rice. It was jasmine rice, with wild rice and herbs. But still, it was rice.

Every other food seemed to already know one another … but rice just sat there. While the other foods got passed around and seemed to be thoroughly enjoyed, Rice kept getting passed over.

Soon the other foods started commenting …

“Geez. Who invited Rice?”

“Does rice even belong at the holiday table?”

“Rice will never make it to Stomach-Land!”

Rice said, “Well I guess I was adopted to be part of the family tradition?”

Gravy said, “Well you can’t pair with me. Whoever heard of rice and gravy?”

Pie also said, “And you can’t pair with me … disgusting!”

The other foods started to fight with Rice and push her around. Rice could deal with that. But what Rice couldn’t stand were the constant platitudes about how Rice should feel grateful for being adopted to the table and that Rice was lucky.

To Rice, being adopted didn’t feel like luck, and why should she feel grateful for being abandoned on the grocery shelf and being the last bag of anything left for the holidays? Did anyone ask Potatoes if they felt lucky to have Gravy or Butter? Did anyone ask Cranberry Sauce if it felt lucky or grateful to be paired with Turkey?

Rice thought about what to do to make it seem like she belonged. Could she just pretend that she was part of this holiday foods family? 

So Rice did just that, pretending she wasn’t an exotic grain, acting more like the others and being perfect so that people would believe that she totally belonged. 

But Rice knew that she was always seen as “not like the others.”  

People started putting Rice on their plates and she kind of mixed in with the puddle of sauces. For a while, she did feel like she belonged there, that people didn’t see her as different from the other foods.

She believed it for the main meal and even the leftovers, but deep down inside, in the very germination of her being, she knew that others saw her as different.

Eventually, Rice put herself in a doggie bag and managed to get transported to the home of the little Asian girl who Rice had noticed did not look like the other people at the table. When they got to the girl’s home, the turkey leftovers were put in a wok and stir fried with other vegetables, and then all put in a bowl with Rice and for the first time. She felt like these foods embraced and liked her. 

“Hey, Rice! Come mix it up with us!” said the veggies. No one asked Rice if she felt lucky or grateful to be included. It was as if everyone understood the importance of Rice in this context.

“Rice, please!! Our sauces NEED you to mix with us and make us delicious!”

“Thanks, I will,” said Rice. Rice knew that even though the ride to Stomach-Land would be the end of her, she was the happiest she had ever felt because she had finally found where she belonged.