Absurdity, Allegory and China

Under the headline “Wary U.S. Olympians Will Bring Food To China” a story in the February 9, 2008 NYT reported that a caterer working for the US Olympic Committee, whose job is to feed the US athletes while they are in Beijing, did some local Beijing shopping in preparation for the Games and found a half-breast of chicken that “measured 14 inches.”

“Enough to feed a family of eight,” said Frank Puleo, a caterer from Staten Island who has traveled to China to handle food-related issues. “We had it tested and it was so full of steroids that we never could have given it to athletes. They all would have tested positive.”

And this from a more recent Olympic food-related article, which appeared in The Daily Telegraph (Aus) on April 30, 2008:

In another example of the iron-clad control Beijing is trying to exert on foreigners, Games organisers have told Australia it must source all food from within China. It is understood the Chinese have introduced the ban to maximise revenue for local food producers. The policy is an abrupt departure from previous Olympics, when Australian athletes have been allowed to bring in foods to meet their strict dietary needs. The Daily Telegraph has learned the Beijing Organising Committee for the Olympic Games [BOCOG] added an unprecedented clause in its freight manual outlining the ban.

I guess the only thing for international athletes to do to ensure inadvertent steroid contamination is to eat with someone they know is, in fact, on the Chinese Olympic team. And then eat exactly what they’re eating.

Personal note: if I eat meat I usually eat chicken. I’ve been here for ten years now, though I have cut back on chicken since February, generally choosing the smaller pieces – something that looks like it actually comes from a chicken – when I go for groceries. I’ve always been a bit suspicious of pieces of chicken that appear to be body parts that would naturally come from a bird the size of a swan. Though some of the growth in my head has to do with getting older, I am planning a trip to the local baseball field to see if my home run hitting skills are any better than they were in 1965 when I was fifteen. If I get even one to clear a fence, any fence, I’ll be suspicious. As soon as I learn the results I’ll pass them on.