We went out for food today and for some reason (let’s call it hunger) I had something called a Mighty Brunch.
I have never seen a mountain of food quite like it. Sausages, bacon, hash browns, tomatoes, eggs, black puddings, toast, mushrooms, beans - piled onto a plate I’m sure they would have called a ‘sharing platter’ in the old days. It was certainly mighty - like a kind of breakfast the Greeks might have had before taking on the Spartans. A small pot of ketchup appeared alongside it. I picked up my knife and fork like a gladiator and dived right in.
Is there still a connection between food-capacity and perceived masculinity?
I definitely think there was a time when you were seen as more of a manly man if you took on large portions. I used to think it was a sort of primeval thing, where the alpha male, the hunter would need the lion’s share of the meat so that he could fight off the wolves and still have energy to hunt the bison. Society accepted it in some deep level of understanding, and so the strongest among us still prove themselves against the Olympic breakfast or the all-you-can-eat steakhouse.
But has it changed? I’ve not encountered it in a while, and I’m wondering whether culture has adapted. As I ripped into my mighty brunch, I wondered whether it was because I am clearly no more than a beta male (which, I’m actually okay with) and therefore not likely to have ever felt the pressure to stuff my face. I also wondered whether it applies quite specifically to young men, rather than the grizzly old grumblers at the back of the cave.
I ate most of it. It seemed a bit silly to consume the last bit of toast and the final half of black pudding, if, as I knew it might, it would make me feel queasy and uncomfortable.
Nevertheless I got through the rest of the Mighty Brunch, and I enjoyed it. Weirdly though, the last thing I felt like doing afterwards was riding out onto the plains in search of the buffalo. I’m more of an afternoon-nap kind of a guy.
Probably good news for the saber-toothed tiger.
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