Say Noakes to Vegans

As an ardent non-believer in religions and extremist fads or any shape or form, there are more than a few dishevelled Vegans who have a beef with me.  Some have gone so far as to de-friend me from their Facebook list of gaunt friends.  I must be honest, I have been tempted to photo-bomb their sites with pictures of crackling and lard, but decided to refrain.  One or two of the disenchanted are relatives, so de-friending me may not be an option, although my family has always encouraged robust debate, yet I’ve always particularly favoured the ‘bait’ part of the term.  Perhaps it’s the suppressed politician in me?

Over the past year however, it has been intriguing to witness the ‘reborn’ Noakes-ists, who have overtaken many an ardent vegetarian by dominating the dinner party conversation.  (Prof Tim Noakes, for those who have been visiting another planet, or living on an island - no Australia's not an island - is the mastermind behind the 'Real Meal Revolution' which endorses the ancient Banting Diet of high fat low carbs) facebook.com/timnoakesrevolution. Yet instead of the usual, ‘ooh, I don’t eat slaughtered offerings’, it’s now, ‘do you have extra fatty bacon to go with my kale?”.  Who’d even heard of kale until the revolution began beyond the tracks of the Sport Science Institute in Cape Town's leafy Newlands suburb?

The revolution has caused much divide, particularly amongst the anorexically challenged.  Physiologists are having to deal with couch potatoes ruing their evening’s inclusion of a spud with their tuna steak for dinner, or God forbid, a peach or nectarine, once believed to be a healthy fruit, now vanquished horror balls of deadly sucrose, almost as deadly as a glass of Coke (a-cola..).   The Noakes biblical ‘Red List’ says so!  It conjures up images of health clinics dressed with stained glass windows, a slaughter altar and a piece of rump with an halo hovering over it, whilst the acoustics echo sounds of oversized, smiling praise singers.  Sound familiar?  

It has been a while since I attended a dinner party, ate out at a restaurant or even stood beside the school rugby field and didn't hear something about ‘hold the carbs, and load the beef’ and how much weight they've lost as a result thereof.  How does one pass on a bacon and egg roll on a misty Saturday morning on the sidelines just because rolls are made of carbs?  Rolls were made to hold bacon and eggs, they’re carriers of delight.  Holding is good, we all need to be held from time to time.  However, that said, perhaps there's nothing more delightful than the thought of a 'roll' made of woven crispy bacon, though I see that I'm not the first to fantasise about such things.

As a meat lover, this new found ‘religion’ has played beautifully onto my plate, although clearly I must be doing something wrong, as one thing I haven’t lost is weight.  I know I’m not doing it religiously, but as I said, religions scare the hell out of me (oops, Freudian slip).  So I sin from time to time, and I’m told, like the devil, when one sins with carbs one’s body saps up every last morsel like a sponge, leaving one worse off than when one simply ate carbs every day.  So sue me, I repent once a week.  

Call me a turncoat but I must be honest, I haven’t been to visit my cardiologist for a cholesterol check up for a few years now.  Something I started doing decades ago due to my family history of heart disease.   My grandfather was merely 34 years old when he died of a heart-attack whilst playing golf, and my father 48 when he had his first massive coronary followed by a quadruple bypass.  Both were lean and fit men at the time.  My poor father, despite having survived this horrific ordeal for another 18 years thereafter, was forced onto the Heart Foundation’s ‘low cholesterol’ diet of almost zero fat, including steamed chicken and fish, lots of carbs, margarine instead of butter, lean cuts of beef, no chicken skin, no prawns or crayfish, low fat cheese, skim milk, low fat yogurt, steamed veggies, etc.  Sadly, this was perhaps more deadly than was ever imagined at the time.  Though never one to grumble, he sat there eating his miserable, tasteless meals night after night, as we sat around eating something else.  Enough to kill anyone, particularly one such as myself who believes that life’s just too short for average food, palatable wine and merely acceptable company. 

So with all said and done, perhaps there’s something to be said for ‘all things in moderation’, as the saying goes.  Go to Shabbat on Friday, Mosque on Sat and Church on Sunday.  A fine combination of Kosher kitka bread, Halaal chicken and Reborn Parma ham.  All washed down with copious amounts of wine, water and more wine, makes for a superb meal and a good life.  Perhaps even the folk in Gaza might like to join me for dinner.  No knives or other sharp objects set, just inspired debate and conversation accompanied by good fatty food, some wine blessed by all of the gods and a few decadent ‘tatoes too-boot.  Peace and love!