Day 12

I’m on my way to my childhood home of Philadelphia.

This is going to be my greatest dietary challenge thus far. Not only was it named the “fattest city” a few years ago, but add to that the fact that I am looking forward to putting a few favorite restaurants, delis and food stands on my historical tour, and methinks there could be a slight setback in the program.

To put a positive spin on it, my stomach will continue to have “forward” progress…

Philly is not known for producing alternative eating delicacies. It is mostly a town of tradition and repetition, and this is especially the case at mealtime. Recipes have been passed down for centuries, without so much as a blink to change an ingredient. They have no clue what is outside the normal patterns of a meat & potatoes meal, followed by sitting around the telly watching Channel Six Action News with a cold Pabst Blue Ribbon Beer you got at the local bar down the block.

There is not much awareness of much outside a 20-block radius, except for the Jersey Shore trips that fill every summer.

For instance, if you announced you were trying a vegan lifestyle, most would think you were just talking about vegging out on the couch for a while. Ketchup is considered an essential vitamin source there. And don’t tell them a tomato is not a vegetable, or prepare to have your fruity ass kicked back to the west coast!

There are local foods most of our country has never heard of, let alone tasted. I use the term “taste” loosely, because most food there is consumed without thought or touch of a taste bud. It is “wolfed,” “rifled” and “piled in,” but rarely eaten for its succulent culinary delight.  Sometimes teeth are more of an impediment to the rush to the stomach than an essential tool in digestion

Conscious eating in the City of Brotherly Love is practically non-existent. This is a place where one of the most celebrated events is the “Wing Bowl,” as 20 thousand fans gather to watch gluttons down as many chicken wings as possible before passing out.

I guess you could say it’s “unconscious” eating??

Grown men are horizontally strewn about a stadium boxing ring, wishing for a ring girl to give them mouth-to-mouth resuscitation and relieve them of their self induced misery.

When I wake up in the morning in my hometown, I begin with a breakfast “meat” called Scrapple. I put meat in quotes because I am not quite clear if or what meat is contained in this slab. The best guess I can give is that scrapple is one vowel away from what it probably is – a scrap pile. Yes, it is what’s left over AFTER they make sausage, which is oh-so-healthy for you!

I picture the sausage being made in a factory in rural Pennsylvania, and then a guy with a broom sweeps the leftover snouts, guts and innards into a mold. Perhaps there is some congealing fluid added (or glue), but then it is made into a 3 by 2 by 4-inch rectangular block and put into a hermetically sealed wrapper.

Okay. I am going to stop right there. I have eaten this since birth, and even I’m getting nauseous describing this day starter.

Sorry…

A helpful hint I picked up a long time ago when I am having a hard time with offensive food – put ketchup on it.