Call me crazy – or simply call me a sportswriter – but I rarely turn down free food.
Even more rarely do I turn down a shot at winning something.
So when asked to take part in a Hot Chicken Eating Contest as part of the buildup to Friday’s Music City Bowl, my question was not: Why would I do that to my intestines? It was: Why not?
For the uninitiated (i.e. almost everyone outside Nashville), Hot Chicken was born as “revenge food.”
The story goes that a woman attempted to punish her cheating man, Thornton Prince, by dousing his fried chicken with hot pepper. But the plan backfired; he found it delicious.
The top two spots in Nashville are Prince’s and Hattie B’s, which has six levels of heat: Southern, Mild, Medium, Hot, Damn Hot And Shut the Cluck Up.
The amateur eating contest used Hot. The pros who followed us ate Shut the Cluck Up.
Competitive Eating is said to be a gender-neutral competition, and I believe it. Last year’s winner, Molly Schuyler, is a 115-pound mother of four who once ate 48 pieces of pumpkin pie (16.8 pounds) in 10 minutes.
A year after eating four pounds of chicken searing enough to melt your iPhone, she returned for more punishment.
Any advice, Molly?
“Don’t choke,” she replied.
“It’s cold. (The chicken) will be covered in crap… It’s horrible. And I’m gonna be throwing it at you.”
Thanks. How much water should I drink?
“I’ll have at least eight bottles myself,” she said. “Whatever you need to get it down. You’ll probably eat three pieces and say: (Screw) it!”
This would be my first competition, though I’d been semi-training all my life. I ate two Big Macs for lunch every day of my senior year of high school. And my wife tells me to SLOW DOWN every time she catches me shoveling, which is almost every time.
I trained for his by going to The Roost Carolina Kitchen, a spectacular spot in Lakeview that serves chicken at three spice levels: Original, Spicy and Nashville Hot.
I had the Nashville and loved it. (Or maybe it was the brioche bun, cole slaw, pickles and blue cheese crumble.)
Anyway, I took the stage Thursday afternoon in downtown Nashville as one of five media members – three locals and a TV reporter who covers Kentucky sports named T.J. Beisner.
More Top Picks Best Weighted Blankets For Adhd
“No real expectations,” Beisner said. “I’m hoping I don’t die. I don’t like crowds and I have to go to the bathroom. So if I don’t wet myself on stage, I’ll feel like I’ve been successful.”
A pound of Hot Chicken was placed in front of me. The crowd of a few hundred cheered.
Three … Two … One … eat!
We had five minutes, and I’ll keep this part short. The chicken was delicious, not too spicy. I would have loved a side of ranch or blue cheese.
As the media members around me (including two women) chowed down, I was … I don’t know, taking a long time to chew and swallow. They were running like defensive backs; I was jogging like a nose tackle.
Had I suddenly developed proper eating manners at the worst possible time?
I knocked out just two pieces and finished last. Or as I’ll tell people, fifth.
Beisner ate his entire plate, consuming a full pound. I knew he was slow-rolling me!
“I’m happy I won,” he said. “I feel sick. The chicken is good, really good. The quantity was too much too soon. But that was fun.”
Did he have a date with the restroom now?
“I’m driving back to Louisville, a three-hour drive,” he said. “My wife told me: Handle it on (Interstate) 65 before you get home. We’ll see.”
Schuyler told me she returned for one simple reason: “The pay check.”
And like the true pro she is, Schuyler defender her title, eating four more pounds and netting $750.
Hey, at least I retain my amateur status.
Twitter @TeddyGreenstein