Although I’m mortified to be commenting on an article that ran a full two days ago (I mean, was I under a rock?), I thought this Times feature on Simon Doonan, who is promoting (of course) his new book Gay Men Don’t Get Fat, was adorable. He talks about how straight food (e.g. the author’s panini, “pressed flat and bulging with cheese,” which is already making me salivate) must be mixed with gay food (e.g. sushi, “some seriously gay food”) to stay slim.
(Don’t worry, he acknowledges that he’s over-simplifying everything ["Sweeping generalizations are the key to everything, and they invariably contain nuggets of truth. Sometimes infinitesimally small nuggets"], but I think it’s pretty cute.)
I’m sure Mr. Doonan would have disapproved of my very heterosexual dinner last night: salchipapas (appetizer) and menestra with chicken (entrée) at Rincón Ecuatoriano (Barco, 8). I gave my order to the waiter, who said dismissively, “Oh no, too much food! The menestra comes with rice and beans. This is too much.” I interpreted this as a challenge, and my friend assured him, “No, she can eat it!” Unfortunately, my meal (a heaping portion of hot dog-like things with French fries, followed by a huge piece of chicken with rice, beans, yuca, lettuce, and onions) won. (Even though I didn’t eat it all, but I ate most of it and my stomach was angry with me for abusing it so.)
Had I been able to submit a question for his Q&A, I would’ve asked for his advice regarding my alpha-male diet. For now, I guess I’ll just aspire to be as gastronomically bisexual as Mr. Doonan.
I went to a restaurant and ordered a cheesy ravioli dish, ate it all, and then when the waiter came to clear my plate said “you must have gotten help with this!” Nope, ate it all myself– thanks for making me feel like a heifer.