A desert waste
Maybe it’s his eating habits that have warped him into the monster we see today.
“Trump’s appetite seems to know no bounds when it comes to McDonald’s, with a dinner order consisting of two Big Macs, two Filet-O-Fish, and a chocolate malted.”
This 2,400-calorie meal is among the details in a forthcoming book by Trump’s former campaign manager Corey Lewandowski and aid David Bossie, as described in a preview by The Washington Post.
That’s unhealthy af, obviously, but it’s also…well it tells us something about him. He could eat anywhere and order anything, and he chooses that.
Maybe he can’t even detect better things. You know, the way we can’t hear higher frequencies that dogs can? Maybe he’s so constituted that anything better than a Filet-O-Fish is too subtle for his palate, and he just can’t tune it in. If so, what a sad sad sad world he lives in.
The book’s authors, who traveled with Trump early in his presidency, write: “On Trump Force One there were four major food groups: McDonald’s, Kentucky Fried Chicken, pizza, and Diet Coke.”
That’s a sad sad sad world.
The food enters the President not only in abundance, but with haste. Ivanka Trump said in a 2015 interview with Barbara Walters, “I wish he would eat healthier and maybe slow down. Sometimes I tell him, like, ‘Oh, you have to, you know, slow down.’ But it’s the only speed he knows …”
All of this could be taken as simple evidence of Trump’s cultural vacuousness.
He should know other speeds; he has dined with other people. He should enjoy a wide array of foods; he has been afforded the opportunity to have anything he wants.
Maybe he simply can’t. Maybe he’s fried his taste buds so thoroughly that McDonald’s and Kentucky Fried Chicken are all there is.
Good chocolate? A tree-ripened peach? Gelato? Raspberries plucked from the vine?
He has no idea. He’s just passing through.
Hah! Next to those other three? What a joke.
So, what do other world leaders serve him when hosting state dinners? What does he serve THEM when he’s host?
We know about the chocolate cake and ice cream.
I remember how much people mocked Bill Clinton because of his taste for McDonald’s, and these are the same people who think Trump is just perfect in every way. (I will admit, I mocked Clinton a bit myself, since I think McDonald’s doesn’t really qualify as food. Give me a nice subtle broccoli salad or a good corn chowder…or a tree-ripened peach, gelato, or raspberries plucked from the vine – sounds wonderful to me!).
This is the sort of thing I expect from my students, a diet of McDonald’s and pizza – but they are 18 years old and away from home for the first time, and they don’t have much money, either. If I could afford whatever I want (and I do pretty well, actually), a good delicate white fish, or a scrumptious Creme Brulee….
He is a complete cretin in every imaginable sense, to the very core
He’s achieved fractal pigginess. If you zoom in on every part of his worldview, he’s just as much a pig at that level as at his whole worldview.
It’s the unabashed greed that amazes me. He can’t possibly be that hungry. He just wants MOAR.
Idle curiosity led me to the menu for the State Dinner for Obama in 2011 at Buckingham Palace.
Roulade of sole and watercress with a seafood sauce.
New season’s lamb with basil.
Sautéed zucchini and radishes.
Panache of green beans.
Baked apples.
Green salad.
Vanilla Charlotte with sour cherries.
Dessert fruits.
Plus Veuve Clicquot Champagne, three wines and a 1963 port.
It would be wasted on him!
Zucchini on a British menu? Did the royal menu-writer (there has to be a royal menu-writer, they have one of everything) think that Americans wouldn’t recognise a courgette?
Now, as much as it pains me to do so, I have to defend Trump here (although I still baulk when I think of his taste in steak; burned to a crisp with ketchup! Bleurgh!). There are many people for whom food is not a pleasure, it’s just fuel to be taken on board in an easily eaten form, and they tend to stick with what they know. For such people there’s no point in a varied menu, let alone fine dining.
Heh, I wondered about that, too. Are we the only people who call them courgettes? Makes me wonder what a courge is.
Christ, yes, there’s bound to be. And a special menu-writing uniform. And a stipend for swan quills and gold ink which hasn’t increased in value since 1534. We are so embarrassing.
Well, yeah, but those people are missing out on so much. Someone with the handed-to advantages of Trump could learn to enjoy things that are actually beautiful rather than plating things with gold and which are actually delicious rather than consistent (and consistently bad). It screams of his vacuity. He has every advantage but doesn’t understand that he might learn something by taking time to try something new. He can have everything he wants but doesn’t understand what a genuine wealth of experience there is out there.
However, you’re right that some people don’t and can’t enjoy food. For example, my nephew has dyspraxia. Part of this condition means that he is hugely sensitive to textures in his mouth and anything unexpected is genuinely horrifying to him. His diet is very limited and he is very uncomfortable trying new things or even talking about trying new things.
Perhaps Trump has that or a similar condition. Or perhaps he is devoid of any saving grace, any ability to learn or feel pleasure at anything other than gain.
The evidence is with the latter, although they are not mutually exclusive.
“We are so embarrassing”
I dunno. I think swan quills and gold ink have a certain charm. At least we value our heritage rather than being intent on destroying it, like some presidents I could mention.
David,
I’m not sure why my completely invented idea of a royal menu writer (courtesy of AoS) and the imaginary trappings thereof would be a worthwhile heritage. Some things are too stupid to keep doing just because they’ve always been done. See religion, racism, sexism etc. They could just print the menus out, instead. ON A SOLID GOLD PRINTER.
The royal family, with our without the Royal Menu Writer (which I am now convinced they have) is an excellent example of heritage that should be abandoned. Getting rid of that awful institution would be in stark contrast to destroying vast areas of beauty for short-term profit.
I maintain we are an embarrassment, with our royal family and our royal menu writers. But to be fair, we have some catching up to do, recently.
No, latsot! The menu was in French as it always is. I translated it into American, except for panache for which there isn’t an equivalent so it’s mixed veggies arranged in a flamboyant manner.
Mmmmm… mixed veggies arranged in a flamboyant manner….
That sounds pretty good.
It shoulde be e-acute on panache but I couldn’t be bothered. As in the feathered tuft on your suit of armour’s helmet. Sure you never go out without the full thing.
Well these days it’s a fedora, of course.
latsot, did you ever see the Spitting Image sketch of Charles and Diana having a quiet night in? Full of none-too subtle gags like “Where’s the tea-strainer?” “I gave him the night off.” “Where’s the toaster?” “He’s got the night off, too.” They ended up doing nothing because they had no idea how to do anything.
Re. Trump. I have a couple of anostic friends. They have no sense of smell and a very limited sense of flavour as a result, and so of course they have no reason to try new flavours. However, with Trump I think it more likely that food holds no interest for him, and he’s just as incurious about it as with anything else that won’t make him money.
One of my ‘wtf is wrong with you people’ moments–standing in my allotment holding a zucchini in each hand. What’s this?’ ‘A courgette.’ ‘What’s this?’ ‘A marrow.’ ‘THEY ARE FROM THE SAME PLANT.’
I’m sure there are lots of people who don’t get much pleasure out of food–but common sense and a survival instinct would suggest they eat something besides corporate fast food if they can afford it.
@Guest,
Fair enough, but at least we don’t go around claiming that raspberries grow on vines ;)
Good spot, latsot, I missed that.
What do they grow on? (Not a berry person. Not a zucchini person either, tbh.)
Woody stems.
Like roses. They’re descended from roses.
Really? That is kind of cool. Random food note–someone on a podcast I was listening to yesterday pointed out that olive oil is actually fruit juice.
Well, they share a common ancestor with roses.
Arrgh! I did hesitate for a split second over “vines,” suspecting it wasn’t right, but had no idea what was right so charged ahead. But really I knew it wasn’t right, because I’ve picked the damn things plenty of times. They grow on…uh…things…
Anyway, every time I do pluck one and pop it in my mouth I’m struck all over again by how different they are from the ones in shops or farmers’ markets…I guess they lose or change flavor over time once they’re picked? Mind you, the shop and market ones are very good, they’re not like the awful “strawberries” that taste like nothing. But the ones straight off the woody stems are even better.
Now I’m hungry for mixed veggies arranged in a flamboyant manner.
“Panache of green beans” made me think of Gérard Depardieu.
I’m not a berry person, but used to grow them (my friends and neighbours all loved them) so did learn a little about how to deal with them–time of day makes a huge difference in taste as well (you want to pick them early in the morning).
As long as they don’t have eggplant. Can’t stand eggplant. I’d rather have a nice aubergine.
——
So do we, if you go back far enough. ;)
Yeah, the sugars start changing into different sugars. Like peas. Frozen peas are great, but peas straight from the stem – unbelievable.
Of course, botanically, raspberries aren’t berries anyway, so who am I to quibble about vines?
As an American brought up on nasty frozen peas I’ve always avoided them, but this year I bought a bag of fresh-picked peas at the farmer’s market just to see what I thought and they were amazing. Went back the next week to get more but the farmer told me the badgers had eaten them all.
Re raspberry vines and so on #25 – usually they’re raspberry canes, at least in British English.
In the UK, at least, frozen peas are frozen within minutes of being picked, so they are pretty good.
I’ve just always had a deep distrust of any peas…and living in the north where mushy peas are a thing didn’t help. OMG it looks like vomit.
Jesus, what have you been eating that your vomit looks like mushy peas?
:) mushy peas….
I was just thinking of posting a pic and letting the American readers form their own opinion, but am thinking better of it now.
Eric:
Only if they’re cultivated. Otherwise they’re just bushes.
I’ve never met a cultivated raspberry plant. Obnoxious little buggers they are.
Tasty though.
Not to be confused with pea purée.
Or with vomit, unless there’s something really wrong with you.
*looks askance at guest*
Of course, mushy peas are for southerners, what you really want is the even more vomit-looking peas pudding:
https://www.dragonsandfairydust.co.uk/wp-content/uploads/2015/01/pease-pudding.jpg
Pease pudding; the only food I’ve ever had that tasted of absolutely nothing – not nothing that I’ve ever tasted before, just….nothing. And the texture. It would take a far better wordsmith than I to do the texture justice.
There are hundreds of bramble bushes around where I live (they’re almost a weed) and I often stop and graze when out with the dog. The flavour of the fruit varies enormously depending on where the bush is growing, from almost overbearingly sweet to turn-the-face-inside-out sour. My oldest grandson is an expert on which bushes carry the best-tasting blackberries. Not bad for a seven year-old.
Well you don’t want to eat the shop-bought stuff, that was probably your first mistake. Also, it’s a condiment rather than a foodstuff in its own right. It is meant to be eaten in a ham and peas stottie.
Bramble bushes are the dominant species around here, too. At various times of the year we also get wild strawberries, wild garlic, rosehips, redcurrents, elderberries…. We are so lucky.
The one thing we don’t get much of is fungus. When I was a kid we used to get all kinds of mushrooms and puffballs and inkcaps and so on growing around us. I keep meaning to grow some, it isn’t very hard.
latsot, I’ve had shop-bought and genuine, made-in-a-Georgie’s-kitchen-by-a-Geordie-in-Geordieland* stuff, made with ham hock and without. Amazingly, it even stole the flavour of the hock!
*well, Ashington, but it’s as near as dammit. They didn’t appreciate my jokes about Shearer’s dodgy knees and Mackems being civilised so I’d say they’re genuine Geordies.
Fish (haddock, not cod), chips and mushy peas with big slabs of bread and butter for making fish and chip butties—
Excuse me, I have to go and lie down for a minute.
AoS:
Rice cakes.
Not, tell a lie: they don’t taste of nothing, they taste of cardboard. I recently found some blueberry and vanilla flavoured rice cakes. They taste of blueberry, vanilla and cardboard.
Oh, I’ve also found the best wild horseradish I’ve ever had growing just above the river about a half-mile from home.
Is it a sign of the times that I seem to be the only person in my local area who recognises wild food for what it is? I’ve never, in the eight years I’ve lived here, seen a single other person picking wild garlic or digging up a horseradish root, and it’s rare to see anybody else picking wild cherries, cob-nuts and hazels. Hell, more than once I’ve had adults asking how I knew the berries I was grazing on were safe to eat. They were blackberries, but because they weren’t in a plastic punnet on a supermarket shelf they weren’t able to recognise them.
“And a special menu-writing uniform. And a stipend for swan quills and gold ink which hasn’t increased in value since 1534.”
““We are so embarrassing”
I dunno. I think swan quills and gold ink have a certain charm. ”
I thought the embarrassment had more to with the stipend being locked into the 1534 amount. I’m sure the price of gold ink has gone up considerably since then. With no cost of living allowance built into the stipend, the writing would have, over time, become much, much smaller and menus limited to a single, near-microscopic copy. This resulted in the creation of the Royal Menu Reader, equipped with an elaborate lorgnette and a different uniform. As this post is also financed through the menu-writer’s stipend, this only make things worse.
Or it could be the uniform. It wouldn’t have changed since 1534 either. Not just the style, but the actual uniform itself. There’s just the one. And the looks when you take it to the cleaners….
Buy this book and you will not starve:
https://www.amazon.co.uk/Food-Free-Collins-Richard-Mabey/dp/0007183038
I once had a dinner party serving pretty much only food I grew or found on the ground (I did cheat a little, we had olive oil and spices).
“Buy this book and you will not starve.”
My shelves are full of books I bought thinking they would solve various problems. Alas, I was misled; I not only had to read the books, I needed follow the programs or instructions within. Buying was not sufficient. How I wish it were.
That is true, I forgot to mention the other step–sleep with it under your pillow.
Edible books; they’re the future.