Local Flavor

The Quest for Best: Eating as Sport
A consummate foodie ponders the phenomenon of competitive food consumption.

by Deb Barshafsky

In the seventh grade, my classmates voted me Most Likely To Succeed and the Studiest Girl in 7-D. Yes, "studiest." You would think my teacher (obviously not the most studiest of her seventh grade class) would have caught that. So best brains and best schmoozer or whatever quality kids use to judge one's trajectory for success. Proud moments in my formative years. I kept my certificates in a Snoopy scrapbook along with my perfect attendance ribbons.

As an adult, my "bests" include a gold award for my piece on Augusta's homeless pet population during the 2002 GAMMA Awards (the Oscars of the Magazine Association of Georgia) and the inclusion of one of my columns in Best Food Writing, an annual compilation of the nation's best culinary writing. My editor and my father were certainly proud of those august accomplishments.

The achievement, however, that carries the most personal satisfaction is a rather gluttonous oneÑan eating feat. My friend, Elaine, is Italian. Her family's ricotta-stuffed pasta shells are legendary, as is her family's appetite for them. Years ago, when we shared a fence line in neighboring Kings Woods cottages, I was crowned queen of the stuffed shells. When I swallowed the last bite of my 11th shell, a hush fell over the crowd (three of my closest friends and assorted pets). They couldn't believe I had done it. I had blown the Montano Family Stuffed Shell Record out of the water. When Elaine shared the news with her mother, Mrs. Montano asked, "Is she a heavy girl?"

I've always had a healthy appetite (some would call it unhealthy). I was raised in a family that thinks a gallon of ice cream is a single serving. When my mother cooks schnitzel, she employs a "five per person" approach. When I was a teenager working at Orange Julius in Regency Mall, she would have an omelette waiting for me when I came home at nightÑmade with five eggs. In short, I can eat. And I take personal pride in my ability (twisted as it may seem to the Atkins, Weight Watchers and Jenny Craig set).

Biologically speaking, I believe humans are hard-wired to strive for superiority. Survival of the fittest. King of the mountain. We want to be on top. To be the best. Best of show. Best of Augusta. Best of something. So don't be too harsh on me knowing that I ate more stuffed shells than anyone in the Montano family history and that I delight in that piggish achievement. It's nature at work.

But even for meÑone who readily embraces her genetic predisposition to copious eating sessionsÑeven I have trouble wrapping my mind around the idea of organized competitive eating, contests that showcase participants eating large amounts of food in short periods of time. Well, if the truth be told, I'm fascinated by it. I once read that we should look closely at our fascinationsÑfor in them we'll find our fears. But let us set that psychological mumbo jumbo aside for the moment.

Perhaps the best-known event on the competitive eating circuit (more on that later) is Nathan's Famous Fourth of July Hot Dog Eating Contest in New York. This year, the slightly built Takeru Kobayashi from Japan took top honors, devouring 53-and-a-half Nathan's hot dogs and buns in 12 minutes. One of his lesser known records? Nearly 18 pounds of cows brains in 15 minutes.

Fascinating, yes?

Competitive eating is organized by the International Federation of Competitive Eating. Really, I'm not kidding. The federation, which was formed seven years ago to advance the sport and maintain its integrity, coordinates a series of annual tournaments known in competitive eating circles as "the circuit." A few highlights? Matzo balls (January in New York City), pickled quail eggs (April in Texas), cabbage (August in Alaska) and fish (December in Scotland). This month, the circuit includes tournaments for eating ice cream and pelemeni, a type of Russian dumpling. Fruit cake, sweet corn, Spam, rice balls, oysters, mayonnaise, doughnuts, crawfish, beef tongueÑit is all eaten competitively and someone somewhere proudly holds the record.

Dale Boone is Georgia's shining star on the competitive eating circuit. He was the International Federation of Competitive Eating's 2002 Rookie of the Year and currently is ranked 10th internationally. Among his gastronomical feats, he has eaten 274 Russian dumplings in six minutes and 28 reindeer sausages in 10 minutes. "It took me over a year to get used to Northern food," says Boone.

"It's a lot greasier and spicier than what we're used to eating."

To prepare for the pelemeni competition, Boone located a Russian restaurant in Atlanta where he could practice downing dumplings. "That wasn't cheap," he laughs. "It cost about $14 for 20." Remember, Boone's record setting devourment of Russian dumplings is nearly 300. One training session could set him back more than $160. (And you thought fly fishing was an expensive sport?)

The year he took the pelemeni competition by storm, Boone arrived in New York a few days early, settled in with a fellow eater and, much like an athlete prepping for the big game, watched film of the previous year's competition. What he realized was that the other competitors were eating the dumplings one at a time. Boone downs them by the dozen.

Even with an informal title to my name, I still wonder how one becomes a competitive eater. Boone's start can be traced to a little watermelon eating contest in Locust Grove, Ga. For years, he tried to take the titleÑfor kicks, for family bragging rights. "Dang if some little kid didn't beat me every year," he laughs. "And here I am today, an internationally ranked competitive eater. And I still haven't won that contest."

When I spoke to the 6-foot, 1-inch, 310-pound Boone, he was on a winning streak following a poor showing last year that he attributes to knee surgery. "I tried to get back into it [eating competitions] too soon." He's been picking his competitions carefully and expects to make a good showing in the recently launched Krystal Square Off, a hamburger eating competition that is making qualifying stops in 11 Southeastern cities, including Atlanta, between September and November.

The World Hamburger Eating Championship, sanctioned by the International Federation of Competitive Eating, culminates on November 13 in Chattanooga, with $5,000 going to the competitor who can consume the most 2.5-inch-square burgers in eight minutes. Boone encourages me to attend an event, assuring me that I've never seen anything like it. "Hon," he says, "this is the WWF of eating. Except the eating is for real."

Still scratching my head about the "why" of competitive eating, I turn to Rich Shea, one of the organizers of the international federation. He validates my biological perspective about our proclivity to get to the top o' the heap. "People like to compete," he explains. "And the combination of the competition and the exposure and recognition the sport brings is enough to get people interested and involved."

People like him, I inquire? "I'm strictly a social eater," Shea assures me. "Although, I once ate five lobsters in one day."

Social eater? Competitive eater? I look around my work station and wonder about my food soul. I've just posted a check to the International Federation of Competitive Eating for their quarterly newsletter, the Gurgitator. And here's the latest issue of Saveur, the magazine of authentic cuisine. My first issue of The Art of Eating, Edward Behr's food journal. A flyer for Southern Food in Black and White, the fall symposium of the Southern Foodways Alliance. A copy of Cookoff: Recipe Fever in America. A receipt from Sam's for bulk food. Oh, and let's not forget the jar of M&Ms resting near my elbow. I've thus far resisted the urge to toss them down my gullet while timing my progress. Thus far.