If you normally read my columns at the breakfast table, I strongly recommend that you put down your egg white omelet and tofu bacon before continuing.
Some referenced cuisine might result in loss of appetite.
Okay, I've warned you; here we go.
My irk-meter is red-lining today.
The reason? Something I recently discovered, referred to as the sport (?) of "Competitive Eating.
Major League Eating, "MLE," the organization responsible for inflicting upon us these gluttonous, gross, gobbling games is - according to their website - "the world body that oversees all professional eating contests.
The organization, which developed competitive eating...
helps sponsors to develop, publicize and execute world-class eating events in all variety of food disciplines.
" At the Fourth of July hot dog eating contest, an annual extravaganza, the winner stuffed more than four dozen tube steaks (with buns) down his distended gullet in less time than it takes me to make a pot of coffee.
It gets better - or worse, you choose.
The buns can be coated in water before consumption, allowing them to become slippery, for ease of entry no doubt.
Nothing says "fine dining" quite like meat entrails in a doughy, gooey mass driven into distended bellies at lightning speed.
Don't care for hot dogs? The winner of the hamburger "Square Off" gobbled 93 burgers in eight minutes and a major pizza chain's "Chow-lenge" led to six one-pound calzones being polished off in six minutes.
If you care to inhale a somewhat more refined cuisine, there is a Gyoza competition (2008 record: 231 in ten minutes).
How about oyster eating? The record holder here - a woman - chugged 552 in ten minutes; virtually one per second! If the thought of so many slimy, slippery, shellfish slithering past your esophagus doesn't trigger your gag reflex, I've got one more.
Ladies and Gentleman, start your silverware please! Welcome to the Rocky Mountain Oyster championship.
In case you are unaware, Rocky Mountain Oysters, also referred to as "prairie oysters," have no relation to the genus Crassostrea.
Instead (this is the part I warned you about), it is the term for edible offal, specifically buffalo or bull testicles.
Granted, they are usually peeled, coated in flour, pepper and salt, sometimes pounded flat, then deep-fried; but you can prepare it any which way you please - call me small-minded - but I'm crossing my legs while writing.
So why am I so hounded by competitive eating? I horrified myself by watching some of the videos of these events and it appeared to be a line of "contestants" pounding food into their mouths, with both hands, while restraining the urge to vomit.
All the while, the commentator - in awe - jabbered enthusiastically about how the human stomach is not made to hold that much food.
"This is amazing!" he said on several occasions, commenting how the participants had to adjust their postures just to allow the food to fit inside them.
I understand that it's their bodies.
They can abuse them if they wish.
I've done my own fair share, so who am I to judge? What really struck me was the waste.
In fairness, much of the money is donated to charity.
And I risk coming across to some as crotchety, yet wouldn't it make more sense to give those 48 hot dogs or 200 plus oysters to families who really needed them, while finding other methods to raise funds? I can (almost) get past the thought of consuming a platter of Mountain Oysters, but I cannot overcome the image of so much wasted food while so many are in need.
Some referenced cuisine might result in loss of appetite.
Okay, I've warned you; here we go.
My irk-meter is red-lining today.
The reason? Something I recently discovered, referred to as the sport (?) of "Competitive Eating.
Major League Eating, "MLE," the organization responsible for inflicting upon us these gluttonous, gross, gobbling games is - according to their website - "the world body that oversees all professional eating contests.
The organization, which developed competitive eating...
helps sponsors to develop, publicize and execute world-class eating events in all variety of food disciplines.
" At the Fourth of July hot dog eating contest, an annual extravaganza, the winner stuffed more than four dozen tube steaks (with buns) down his distended gullet in less time than it takes me to make a pot of coffee.
It gets better - or worse, you choose.
The buns can be coated in water before consumption, allowing them to become slippery, for ease of entry no doubt.
Nothing says "fine dining" quite like meat entrails in a doughy, gooey mass driven into distended bellies at lightning speed.
Don't care for hot dogs? The winner of the hamburger "Square Off" gobbled 93 burgers in eight minutes and a major pizza chain's "Chow-lenge" led to six one-pound calzones being polished off in six minutes.
If you care to inhale a somewhat more refined cuisine, there is a Gyoza competition (2008 record: 231 in ten minutes).
How about oyster eating? The record holder here - a woman - chugged 552 in ten minutes; virtually one per second! If the thought of so many slimy, slippery, shellfish slithering past your esophagus doesn't trigger your gag reflex, I've got one more.
Ladies and Gentleman, start your silverware please! Welcome to the Rocky Mountain Oyster championship.
In case you are unaware, Rocky Mountain Oysters, also referred to as "prairie oysters," have no relation to the genus Crassostrea.
Instead (this is the part I warned you about), it is the term for edible offal, specifically buffalo or bull testicles.
Granted, they are usually peeled, coated in flour, pepper and salt, sometimes pounded flat, then deep-fried; but you can prepare it any which way you please - call me small-minded - but I'm crossing my legs while writing.
So why am I so hounded by competitive eating? I horrified myself by watching some of the videos of these events and it appeared to be a line of "contestants" pounding food into their mouths, with both hands, while restraining the urge to vomit.
All the while, the commentator - in awe - jabbered enthusiastically about how the human stomach is not made to hold that much food.
"This is amazing!" he said on several occasions, commenting how the participants had to adjust their postures just to allow the food to fit inside them.
I understand that it's their bodies.
They can abuse them if they wish.
I've done my own fair share, so who am I to judge? What really struck me was the waste.
In fairness, much of the money is donated to charity.
And I risk coming across to some as crotchety, yet wouldn't it make more sense to give those 48 hot dogs or 200 plus oysters to families who really needed them, while finding other methods to raise funds? I can (almost) get past the thought of consuming a platter of Mountain Oysters, but I cannot overcome the image of so much wasted food while so many are in need.
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