Taking a break from my internet porno research, I stumbled on www.hippiehopper.com a UK green website and they mentioned a Thai ‘all you can eat’ veggie buffet in London. Pattaya has a great number of ‘all you can eat’ establishments, most notably the Winchester Arms in Jomtien, which feautres a Sunday feedbag for short-timers. ribs, chicken wings, potato salad ad nauseum along with smiling girls seeking to know your company in a Biblical sense.

Untouchable?

Almost unless you’ve had the pleasure to eat beyond human capacity at Charles’ Soul Kitchen in Harlem USA and when they say ‘all you can eat they mean it too, for this restaurant of Frederick Douglas Blvd. attracts the biggest eaters within the tri-state area and also harkens to prodigious international chowhounds.

Screw Hot Dog Eating Contests. 

Charles’ Soul Kitchen is the home of the over-eaters. The chairs are super-reinforced to bear the brunt of 300 pounders and then some. The tables are wide enough to hold a trough of food. The forks and spoons are extra long so the chubbyites can reach the plate to gorge their palate.

Several years ago I had biked to the Spanish Museum to check out a Goya. A friend had a connection in Russia for a questionable portrait in his style. I held up the copy of their painting. No a chance it was real, but I wouldn’t tell the friend, until they paid my consultancy fee.

The ride had sapped my strength and I stopped into Charles Soul Kitchen for a fuel intake. The place was loaded with heavies. At 190 they regarded me as an interloper. One blubber-jowled diner mumbled, “Only people come here are people come to eat.”

“Some might come to watch you eat, but no one wants to watch someone snack.”

“Snack?” The black behemoth was working on a plate of fried chicken and a stack of ribs. “You think you can do better?”

“Better, no.” I loaded chicken, ribs, beefy oxtails; smothered steak; okra succotash; macaroni and cheese; candied yams, and collard greens tinged with turkey onto a tray and sat opposite him. “I can do best.”

“Watch out, Tiny.” A bulky friend shouted with a mouthful of cornbread. “That Jap who won the hot dog eating contest in Coney Island weighed about 100 pounds.”

“This whiteboy ain’t no Jap.” Tiny hoved from his chair and matched my tray with food. Sitting down he licked his lips. “No one can outeat me.”

“This isn’t a race.” Eating fast was one thing. Eating a lot another.

“Whoever calls quits loses.” Tiny sucked a rib bare of meat.

“My thought exactly.” I upped his gesture by deboning two ribs. The pork was tender. He nodded and we wordlessly attacked the tray. 15 minutes later tiny burped and said, “Had enough.”

I was full and stood up to unloosen my belt. ‘There’s always room for more.”

The next tray was smaller and I felt my stomach stretch out like I was in a CIA rendition water torture camp. Tiny wasn’t in good shape either. Fat people’s stomachs can’t grow because of the sheer volume of the fat pushing inward on their organs. I was experiencing the opposite effect as the food extended my stomach to threaten my vital body functions. Each bite for tiny and me was like a climber lifting his foot higher onto Mt. Everest, while knowing the next step might kill him.

Sweat poured from Tiny. I was close to fainting. Someone had to give and I stood up again.

“Give up.” Tiny was hopeful.

“No.” I sucked down a glass of lemonade, praying it didn’t backwater up my gullet. Gulping I said, “Only clearing my mouth for dessert.”

“Dessert.” Tony’s eyes bulged in warning and the restaurant turned its head to avoid the sight of Tiny re-enacting that famous spewing scene from Monty Python’s THE MEANING OF LIFE. I dropped $15 on the counter and said, “Whiteboy wins.”

I barely made it outside before I chucked up ‘all-you-can-eat’ in the gutter.

Victory has its price, but I put the bill for Charles Soul Ktichen on the bill for my consultancy and somehow that made the victory a little sweeter.

For big eating in Pattaya there Bob’s Burgers on Pattaya Tai. They have a burger that is impossible to eat at one go.

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