[@MelonHead]
You may have stolen your food, but ours came to us willingly. 

“Give me your tired, your poor,
Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free,
The wretched refuse of your teeming shore.
Send these, the homeless, tempest-tossed, to me:
I lift my lamp beside the golden door.” 

All of our food evolved from cultures that came to us. The meek, the weak, the weary. Those who were invited and those who willingly came. 

A culture of food built on a land of unity, not conquest. (Except for the imperialism that it was built on COUGH COUGH. But hey I guess that's YOUR fault.)

Your food stinks of violence, ours smells of victory.