Monday, January 27, 2014

Talk To The Food

A laying on of hands, food-wise, the Bio-Schmetz Way.

All bacteria on deck, pronto!

So then, foodies come in basically two flavors, which are easy to determine early on if you don't mind licking strangers.

Flavor One: Those who like biting stuff to find out what's good, and who enjoy eating.

Flavor Two: Those who know what is right, and will force-feed you to prove it. If you only stop resisting.

Food is an issue for many people. Eating rules give them identity. The rules give their lives structure, then something to live for, and finally those rules take over and nothing else counts — it's obsession time.

Flavor Two people honk themselves hoarse about their beliefs, insisting that you do as they say, and are certain that they will reach God and live righteously forever. Because they have found the True Truth. Which works best if you buy a distributorship from them.

Personally speaking, I'm still trying to get that little plastic pyramid I bought thirty years ago to sharpen my razor blades. I'm not up to food yet, but.

You know?

To keep my mind in shape for the coming New Age Rapture, Dance & Winners-Circle Awards Ceremony, I went to Smilla Sensimilla's apartment for a class on raw food.

Partly I wanted to see what the inside of a classy, high-end apartment building is like, partly to meet some people if possible, and partly to learn something about different foods.

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Actually, there wasn't much on the Bio-Schmetz Night-Time Nite Lite Therapy as such — mostly it was raw food, but I didn't learn much there either.

Well, another not quite true statement. I did learn that

  • I don't want to learn anything that they're teaching.
  • They aren't teaching anything.
  • I will never, ever eat anything that they've touched ( any of the people who were there, ever).
  • I was stupid to go.
  • Smilla lives in a rabidly killer expensive amazing apartment.

Some other things of note.

  • Probiotics, or how to eat bacteria and remain smiling is a big deal.
    • You want to eat lots of bacteria.
    • You want to eat 80% good bacteria.
    • The 80% of good bacteria "eat" the other 20% (the bad bacteria) and that is how you stay healthy.
  • Hygiene/sanitation are not that important if you have a strong immune system.
    • This was demonstrated by the way the food was handled.
    • No, I didn't follow up — I never want to go near any of them again.
  • Eat raw food to
    • Pick up fun enzymes.
    • Feel better.
    • Feel lighter.
    • Boost your bacterial load.
  • Raw meat is easier to digest, so Smilla cooks hers, but only on the outside. (Still red inside, so she gets to call it raw.)
  • Yes, eating raw meat is safe.
    • Smilla got her parasites from lettuce, not meat. (I don't know if she's going to keep them as pets.)
    • By the way, it's important to do a semi-annual parasite cleanse. (She didn't say if it's for them or for her.)
  • Dairy products are bad. (They make glue out of, you know, like milk, right?)
  • Gluten is bad.
    • Humans didn't evolve to eat gluten. (As substantiated by several consenting head nods.)
    • It's bad for everyone in every way and responsible for arthritis, cancer, diabetes, and almost all other diseases.
    • By the way, ALL grains are bad, gluten or no. (In case you were a loser not already hip to this.)
  • Ceramic knives are better because steel knives cause food to oxidize.
    • You can see it!
    • Food cut with steel turns brown!
    • True!
    • Yuk! Proof! Brown, etc.!

OK — cue the cymbals and gongs!

Time to see Bio-Schmetz In Action! Let's make raw food! (If you can actually make it, right? You really only handle it a lot I think. Or strangers do.)

First up — a mango puree (Raw Mango Chia Smoothie, Smilla called it). She had all kinds of ingredients (so very many kinds) laid out on a table in her living room, where we sat watching, and she hacked at them and stuffed them into a blender. Without washing her hands or the table or the ingredients. (Because that's the Bio-Schmetz Way™)

Then she added honey, which was too thick to drip off the spoon so she pushed it off with a finger, still unwashed, into the blender. Then she repeated this honey trick several times, and cranked up the blender, and poured out small glasses of the resulting goo. I was presented with a glass of it but still had half a glass of kombucha, so I was able to donate my goo to the woman next to me, who drank it down.

Footnote: "Kombucha is a lightly effervescent fermented drink of sweetened black tea that is used as a functional food. It is produced by fermenting the tea using a symbiotic colony of bacteria and yeast, or SCOBY. Drinking kombucha has been linked to serious side effects and deaths, and improper preparation can lead to contamination."

The kombucha wasn't all that bad, and I didn't die yet. Win-win.

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Then we went hardcore — Raw Pad Thai.

Smilla needed help with this, so she farmed out the chopping and hacking to others. Others whom she had never seen before, who had come into her house from the wilds of Cuenca, known far and wide for its streets speckled with pigeon shit, smeared with dog shit, stippled with human shit, and sprinkled by various wild and domestic species of urine. All of which rides along on your shoe soles, is tracked in everywhere, and is of course accompanied by the standard repertoire of ordinary dusts and varieties of diesel soot.

No one washed their hands or cleaned their work surfaces. Really — who would have expected less?

One sacrificial zucchini went on a hand-cranked gizmo that turned it into a long spiral as it came out the other end, but it didn't work right, so ultimately all eight bare hands of four separate strangers participated in handling it, all unwashed.

By this time we were a hair past the halfway mark in our two-hour class. I, being allergic to raw bacteria native to dog shit, decided not to eat anything, at all, under any circumstances, there. Then, or ever.

But what to do?

There was a slight pause. I pounced.

Rising quickly, I pivoted, hit the back of the room and talked to Creepy Nat, Ms Sensimilla's pet poofy-haired ex hippie gray guy friend/lizard-being who was hanging out there, and I apologized.

I apologized to him for forgetting somehow, to tell Ms Sensimilla that I might have to leave early, gave him the $12 for the class, and skedaddled. Oh, God, did I, like no one has ever. Skedaddled. (Zoom!)

Before anyone could blink more than once, I was on the street, making a sharp turn around the corner, and then, safe and free, I had lunch at Good Affinity. Cooked.

Close call, eh?

So that was my day.


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