Food: My Epiphany

food1I read a wordpress blog last week about ideas for an all you can eat buffet. It was really good and I tried to find it to reference it but to no avail. I’ve got some tricks that I’ve honed at a few buffets over the years that I’ll have to share. Since I’m not exactly an … amateur at eating , not a pro, not like the guys at the all- you can- eat contests where they make money eating but you know, an expert. People who are amazed at how much I eat, I’ll tell em, yeah you ought to have known me a few years ago. I guess if I haven’t done much else in life I ‘ve given a few people stories to tell of my past eating prowess. I guess I’m not much fun anymore. Not as far as eating a lot. When I started getting fat I had to slow down. That or I’d have one of those big, 150 lb-looking bellies.

Most of the stories, when people tell them, I really don’t remember it quite like they tell it. Probably because stories tend to get embellished as time goes by or else they wouldn’t be a good story, huh? Eating and I do have a love/hate relationship. I love to eat, don’t get  me wrong but the thing is, it kind of got to be a job because no matter how much I ate, I would be hungry again very shortly thereafter. Also, it usually cost so much for me to get full.

It still makes me shake my head when people say stuff like ” I’m still full from last night’s supper” or  ” I just don’t eat  much in the summer,  it’s too hot ”  Strange statements . (Full from last night’s supper? How could that be? I’ve probably eaten 3 or 4 times since last night’s supper.) One bad part was that unless I ate a bunch RIGHT before I went to bed, I would wake up about 2 or 3 in the morning with a gigantic hole in my belly so big and  hungry that I couldn’t sleep. Then if  I finally gave in and got up and ate something I couldn’t go back to sleep. So, suffice to say,  I’ve always eaten a healthy portion or two before I go to sleep. Usually, a big, ole handful of low fat turkey and a bowl or two of Raisin Bran with low fat milk will usually now do it. Melanie Collier, who used to stay overnight when she was younger and baby-sit our boys, said that one time I had such a big hunk of turkey in my hands that she didn’t know what it was. Well. I knew what it was, And I knew what to do with it.  I caught the Andersons rolling our house one time because I had to get up and eat something. Matter of fact, I also caught the Porters rolling our house another time because of a late refrigerator run.

When I was playing a lot of softball, eating got pretty expensive. If we were playing out of town, I would just go on and figure a $100 bill for eating for the weekend. That didn’t include hotel or gas because Chip took care of that.That was Friday, Sat and Sunday since we usually won the tourneys and were in them until Sunday night. Stacy Harris and I played together a few years and that big rascal was one eatin jessie. I kind of remember this, but Stacy claims that he and I completely shut down a KFC lunch buffet one hot (yeah, me and Stacy didn’t let a little heat affect our appetites- we killed em and still drank about 5 gallons of tea apiece) muggy, July- Saturday afternoon in Monticello Ky. Stacy gave me the idea of bringing a cooler of sandwiches to help defray some of the food costs. I remember he and I sharing each others stuff in time of need.

Eddie Porter likes to tell the story of when we were all in Atlanta a few years ago. We left the hotel in Atlanta to go to the Braves game and were going to stop somewhere and get something to eat on the way . Eddie swears that I had everybody stop to get something for me to eat before we stopped to eat where I ate again. Kind of like a pre-stop. I really don’t remember that one. Well, maybe I do. I think  my blood sugar was getting low, that’s all.

I do remember the time the women’s church softball team and most of the rest of the congregation were deep in Cajun country in Layfette LA and we were at world famous Prejeans. A bunch of us went there  because as I always do when traveling,  I asked a about 100 people at the gym I was working out at (something else I always try to do- I got the coolest shirt at that gym- it had a little crawdad  lifting a barbell ) where the best place to eat was. It was so good we took more people there the next night and we PIGGED out. Just about everything was fried which even though I always ate a lot, it ususally was on the healthy side, not fried. So since everything was fried and we were all trying each others stuff: jambalaya, fried crawfish, fried fish, fried chicken, crawfish etouffee, grilled gator, huge bowls of crawfish bisque (oh my that was good, Mike Crocker got a 5 gallon tub of it. If you ever go to a good Cajun place, try the crawfish bisque) . Well, after about an hour of that, I still had a LOT of food to eat on my plate. I was sitting there staring at it, feeling quite unusual, that I was actually content, bloated, and not really anxious as usual to get back to stuffing more yummy edibles down my gullet. Cause heck, I usually couldn’t eat fast enough to keep up with my metabolism, which would have me hungry again in an hour or so. I figured if I sat there a minute or two, my body would burn enough so I could finish the plate off. Well I guess I sat there staring too long because I heard Mike Crocker, who was sitting to my right with a big feedbag on his chest, and crumbs all over the floor around his chair. Mike was horse-lauging, tears  coming down his face. When we finally got him to stop haw-hawing, he said that was the first time he had EVER seen me get my butt kicked by  food. He said I looked plumb whipped and dejected. Well, that stung my pride. Mike was right. I was getting whipped and I didn’t like it. So I acted like nothing was wrong,  laughing it off, taking a bite or two,  stalling for time. I even headed to the bathroom as an excuse to buy time. Well, they thought I was going to use the restroom to, well, make more room, which I hadn’t thought of. But anyway, I did get a good first-time butt kicking that night in cajun country. Kind of a harbinger for the women’s softball team which also got a butt kicking in that tourney.


7 Responses to “Food: My Epiphany”

  1. Schmoffly Says:

    Do you think that if you had eaten all of that Cajun food there would be a big shiny trophy in the lobby of the Church from where Bethel won that softball tournament?

  2. No,
    Harbinger: One that indicates or foreshadows what is to come; a forerunner. It wasn’t at all like Moses in Exodus 17:11: “So it came about when Moses held his hand up, that Israel prevailed, and when he let his hand down, Amalek prevailed”. I still think they would have lost. Matter of fact, at the exact moment of my Cajun comeuppance, I believe the mighty Bethel women’s team, which had won several Nashville City championships and also a couple of State championships, were already in the losers bracket after a dismal performance. Unlike my heroic performance in defeat, they were superior to the other teams but just left their game in Nashville. Just ask any of them.

  3. McCoolio, you know that I share your endearment or besottedness, if you will, for the human ability to endulge ourselves with sustenance beyond our daily bread. I too have never understood how someone could still be full from the night before. Even more than that, I don’t understand how someone could be too full from lunch to eat supper ( thats dinner for those not from Tennessee). You talk about someone who is an assimilation panzy.

    Here’s a thought. If it is possible to narrow it down, describe the perfect meal all the way down to dessert.

  4. Me either dude.
    That’s a really good blog idea. You’ve already got me thinking about that perfect meal to write about. Even cooler would be to actually experience that perfect meal. That would be a good birthday present for someone wouldn’t it? It definitely would be for me! That and a bunch of good friends to share it with?

  5. I’m down just let me know.

  6. True story about ATL. On our way to dinner with our families, the BIG MAN had to stop and get two grilled chicken sandwiches at Arby’s

  7. It’s a joke in our family, that everyone has to eat before Uncle Donnie or there will not be enough for us!! To U Donnie’s defense, Memom has been known to not cook enough to feed our hungry family.

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