Peak Protein

Linh Dinh

[sausage plate in German Village on Namhae Island, South Korea on 5/14/20]

In Bangkok, I was happy to see again my friend Jonathan and his wife, J. I had met them in Tirana, Albania, and a few months ago, Jonathan even dropped by Vung Tau to see me. J said something to Jonathan he thought hilarious, “Linh is more Western than you! He’s like this 60-year-old American. Wherever he goes, he’s looking for a good burger, decent pasta and Tex-Mex!”

A damning verdict, admittedly, but true enough. Though I mostly eat local, with forays into the weirdest even, I can’t help but hanker, often bitterly, for serious dill pickles, non bastardized ketchup and grown up mustard on a straight ahead beef patty, and don’t you dare slap a fried egg on it! If it’s done, though, I’ll eat it, just to experience the local.

The mistranslation of food is a continual source of ghastly entertainment. In Beirut in 2020, I found myself alone in a carefully decorated Chinese restaurant, Rice and Spice. There were painted vases, oils of ballerinas and semi nudes, and statues of headless nudes and an ascetic monk. I suspected most of the art was done by the same artist, perhaps the restaurant’s owner.

When my stir fried beef with vegetables came out, there was no rice, so I asked about this. The owner, cook, waiter and artist was surprised, “You didn’t order it…” Even weirder, he said there was no rice ready, so would I mind having noodles instead?

In Oriental countries, eating is almost synonymous with eating rice. A common Vietnamese greeting is “Ăn cơm chưa?” meaning, literally, “Have you eaten rice yet?”

[Thủ Dầu Một, Vietnam on 7/6/19]

Here’s how the Lord’s Prayer is Vietnamized, “Please Father give us this day our daily victuals, and forgive our debts, as we forgive those who owe us debts.” [“Xin Cha cho chúng con hôm nay lương thực hằng ngày, và tha nợ chúng con, như chúng con cũng tha kẻ có nợ chúng con.”] So no bread or trespasses, but victuals and debts.

If you owe any Jewish bigwig other than Jesus, be prepared to learn much about compound interest. Even funnier, he lent you money he didn’t even have, thanks to factional reserve banking. Freeing up capital, lordly Jews expand the economy and stimulate growth, so shut up already, you stupid deadbeat!

Since living in the Age of Oil is equivalent to having many slaves and draft animals, many of us don’t quite feel our own enslavement, but the depletion of oil also means scarcity of protein. That’s why we’re being urged to eat fake meats and bugs. To wash them down, we can chug the Singaporean Newbrew or Danish Pisner, but it’s probably easiest to just drink our own piss.

In Cambodia and even Thailand, you can find edible bugs in touristy areas, but ordinary Cambodians and Thais don’t relish such treats. Most consume as much pork, chicken, beef and fish as they can afford. Many also love foreign dishes, of which there’s plenty to choose from. Humanity won’t eat this well again.

Within two blocks of my room in Siem Reap, there’s an excellent Korean restaurant, a legitimate French bakery, a Thai joint I haven’t tried and I Am Pizza. Only fools would walk into such a place, but that’s what I did this afternoon.

Bypassing Crabstick, Chicken Sausage and Durian pizzas, I chose Smash Beef. Though it came out looking and smelling fine, I needed just one bite to realize I had committed an irreversible crime against my body, dignity and God’s natural order. This “pizza” had no tomato sauce or cheese, but was slathered with a weird, sweetish concoction, and there was no crustiness to any part of the dough. The lumps of smash beef were fine, though, so I had my protein, at least.

At I Am Pizza, there was a woman and her son, and as I left, a man came in, so such travesties do have customers, just as in Beirut, there are diners at Rice and Spice, if it’s still open in that collapsed economy. To escape the usual, people everywhere welcome exotic dishes, even when botched or parodied. I’ve written about a Vietnamese hamburger paste that was squeezed from a packet normally associated with ketchup. This is what they eat in America was its selling point.

Sampling food from across the globe has been, for most people, a fairly recent phenomenon, but already, this is winding down, so enjoy your bratwurst, pad thai, lahmacun, lángos, pelmeni, pilaf, pasties, biryani, mangú, moussaka, bunny chow, peri peri chicken or chicken tikka masala, etc., for these glimpses beyond the horizon are flickering out.

With runaway inflation, disrupted supply lines, animals needlessly culled, food warehouses going up in flames, restaurants and pubs shut down, vaccinated workers disabled or dead, and war threatening everywhere, we’re corralled into the New Normal, with millions already dead.

For years, Ice Age Farmer, real name Christian Westbrook, shined the brightest light on the deliberate destruction of our food supply, then YouTube canceled him, before he disappeared altogether. Maybe Westbrook just got tired, but they only go after those who threaten them.

After I discussed the Paul Bowles story where the protagonist has his tongue cut out, Kevin Barrett sent me a grim message, “It’s actually the Americans who are cutting off my tongue—by shadowbanning me and nuking my YouTube, GoFundMe and Patreon accounts, etc.”

Blowing up Nord Stream, Uncle Sam proves, again, he’s a serial terrorist. Cutting off Russian gas to Europeans, he threatens not just their standard of living, but lives, for less energy always means less food.

As millions of Europeans become destitute, their governments send billions to war criminal and draft dodger Zelensky. Across the West, people are expected to just eat bullshit then die.

Last month, a German friend emailed me to say his health food store had closed after 25 years, for lack of customers. Going to the gas station, he noticed its glass door was broken, for it had just been robbed. At the train station, littering had become endemic, “More and more people just throw their trash on the floor with the garbage can two meters away.” Volunteering to clean it up, which he does twice a month, my friend encountered a young man who was slapping Antifa stickers onto those that said “VACCINATION KILLS.” Western radicals now back Big Pharma, you see, as well as the dying American empire’s war machine.

It’s nearly 10PM, so too late for me to grab a bite somewhere. In my fridge, I do have some Danish blue cheese and French paté, so that’s dinner. Around 7AM tomorrow, I’ll get breakfast at Le Pain du Coeur, a short walk away. Since Orientals can eat noodles whenever, I’ll order spaghetti carbonara. Although there’s no discernable olive oil and its slivers of onion are false notes, it’s actually pretty good, and a steal at five bucks.

Of all our pleasures, food is most ephemeral, a mirage almost, so we crave it even when we’re not literally hungry.

See, it’s already gone!

[tagliatelle with beef at Shanghai Express in Podgorica, Montenegro on 7/15/21]

[Ghanaian dinner at Raissa M. Akwaba in Toulouse, France on 8/23/17]

[$5 plate at Detari Fish in Tirana, Albania on 8/2/21]

[breakfast in Ea Kly, Vietnam on 8/22/19]

Source: Postcards from the End