by ALAN LAKE
After a lifetime of excessive eating and living within gluttony’s dark recesses, the wall has been hit. Known as the go-to guy for all things edible, the sense of shame I feel for eating enough for a small village pains me. I volunteer at a youth center and ate enough to feed them all.
Many are close to starving and I’ve been a pig from hell.
In my home growing up we had a just try policy. I had to try whatever my food focused parents put in front of me. If I didn’t like it, I didn’t have to eat it, but I had to try. Unlike my older brother, I liked most everything and my tastebuds developed at an early age as a result.
Lobster stir fried with fermented black beans, ginger and scallions? Big yes. By age five I could break that bad boy down joint by joint, extracting meat the lobster didn’t even know it had. Russian peasant beef tartare made with raw hamburger, capers, onions and dijon mustard served with rough torn black bread? Bring it on! Pickled herring, dim sum, what we called “Jewsghetti’- a particularly garlicy, meaty meat meatsauce at our favorite restaurant, Fanny’s.