The Anaconda Diet

An old friend, intrepid bachelor, and soon to be retired Marine Colonel whiling away terminal leave, will soon return to another Athens in the southern parts of these United States, visited while it just so happened to be Brew Week. We chatted about old times, movies, flags, Civil War battle tactics, but of all things, his comment, The Anaconda Diet, resonated with me the most for being an unusual dietary philosophy in the face of high protein, gluten free, vegan, etc., restrictions. His philosophy? "Eat first, worry about how to get rid of it later."

Yes, he's the kind of person that still wears the same sized uniform, thirty years later, as when he joined the corps since he PTs (read does physical training) religiously. He also happily hoofed it all over our fair town to the various venues to try brews and cheer on the brewers.

It seems a marvel of the modern age that we obsess about food, but really, the human species has had  food on the brain from the get go. Nonetheless, I appreciate when someone actually eats the food, whatever it is, with little compunction about the what perhaps best illustrated by leftovers on a kiddo's plate.

Kiddo stands, looks at Mama, and says, "Can you wrap this for breakfast?" Mama says, "Sure." Dada says, "No." Mama starts to intervene, explaining that while the boys were out sampling beers, the family sampled bread and cheese over a game board of Life. Dada shakes his head dismissively; his fork reaches toward the leftover half of a burger patty. He says, "I'll eat it." 

The Colonel, fork and butter knife at the ready, eye on the half the burger, says, "I'll take half." His fork descends into the other half of the half burger. Dada quickly retrieves his butter knife and plunges it into action. The division complete, two grown men consume the remnants of the child's meal with wide grins on their faces.

I can't imagine or recall sharing (or haggling) over half of a leftover hamburger or anything for that matter, but I think it is because I didn't grow up with a brother. It occurs to me that only men who grew up with brothers think nothing of clashing forks and knives for additional scraps at mealtime and that sport of the halving it adds to the tastiness of the meal.

An old friend, intrepid bachelor, and soon to be retired Marine Colonel whiling away terminal leave, will soon return to another Athens in the southern parts of these United States, visited while it just so happened to be Brew Week. We chatted about old times, movies, flags, Civil War battle tactics, but of all things, his comment, The Anaconda Diet, resonated with me the most for being an unusual dietary philosophy in the face of high protein, gluten free, vegan, etc., restrictions. His philosophy? "Eat first, worry about how to get rid of it later."

Yes, he's the kind of person that still wears the same sized uniform, thirty years later, as when he joined the corps since he PTs (read does physical training) religiously. He also happily hoofed it all over our fair town to the various venues to try brews and cheer on the brewers.

It seems a marvel of the modern age that we obsess about food, but really, the human species has had  food on the brain from the get go. Nonetheless, I appreciate when someone actually eats the food, whatever it is, with little compunction about the what perhaps best illustrated by leftovers on a kiddo's plate.

Kiddo stands, looks at Mama, and says, "Can you wrap this for breakfast?" Mama says, "Sure." Dada says, "No." Mama starts to intervene, explaining that while the boys were out sampling beers, the family sampled bread and cheese over a game board of Life. Dada shakes his head dismissively; his fork reaches toward the leftover half of a burger patty. He says, "I'll eat it." 

The Colonel, fork and butter knife at the ready, eye on the half the burger, says, "I'll take half." His fork descends into the other half of the half burger. Dada quickly retrieves his butter knife and plunges it into action. The division complete, two grown men consume the remnants of the child's meal with wide grins on their faces.

I can't imagine or recall sharing (or haggling) over half of a leftover hamburger or anything for that matter, but I think it is because I didn't grow up with a brother. It occurs to me that only men who grew up with brothers think nothing of clashing forks and knives for additional scraps at mealtime and that sport of the halving it adds to the tastiness of the meal.