Video by Henry Willette
It was late May and the Summerfest press releases were coming fast and furious. On Friday, May 22, one release in particular caught my eye. Maybe it was because the end of the week was in sight or because I love things that are unabashedly American, but when I read the words “REGISTRATION OPEN FOR THE PATRICK CUDAHY BACON EATING CONTEST,” I smiled.
And as is often the case with humorous press releases, this led to a good laugh in the MilMag office. For reasons that remain unclear, this also led me to enter the contest myself, never once thinking I might be selected for this, the inaugural competition of pork-based public gluttony at the World’s Largest Music Festival.
Twenty-four days later, having largely forgotten that I had done this, I received another email, which began:
“You have been selected as one of the ten finalists to participate in the Patrick Cudahy® Bacon Eating Contest at Summerfest!”
Oops.
“I’ve made a huge mistake,” I thought. Though there are a number of unconventional skills I possess – I’m remarkably efficient at walking through large crowds; I make awesome mix CDs; I know the exact moment when noodles are done cooking – competitive eating is not exactly one my 160-pound frame lends itself to.
But at that point, I’d come too far to back down from this self-imposed challenge. And it was indeed self-imposed. “Did anyone actually put you up to this?” asked Ann Christenson, Milwaukee Magazine’s dining critic, to which I shamefully answered, “No.”
Forging ahead with this quest, I had some questions. How exactly was this contest going to work? How should I approach this? Do I need to prepare? Would I survive? Would my wife leave me after seeing me stuff my face with bacon for absolutely no reason?
For questions I could get answers to, I first turned to Sara Peronto, Summerfest’s marketing and communications coordinator, who told me she’d be able to help out with questions I had about the contest, which led to this email exchange.
Me: Is the contest based on quantity or speed? Is it the most bacon eaten in a given time or the first to eat a certain amount of bacon?
Sara Peronto: It is based on quantity, how much bacon you can eat in two minutes.
Me: Is the bacon crispy? Is it cooked on-site?
SP: The bacon is cooked on-site, but I can’t guarantee if it will be crispy or not. Seeing that it’s made in mass quantities, I wouldn’t count on it.
Me: How many people are in the contest?
SP: Attached is the media alert we sent for a call for registrations. There are 10 finalists.
Sensing she’d grown tired of my questions, I turned elsewhere for advice on how to bring home the bacon. I asked my friend Tyler Maas (owner and operator of Milwaukee Record, LLC and former Milwaukee Magazine contributor) – whose history with mostly absurd, food-based reporting stretches back to the time when both of our bylines appeared in the UW-Oshkosh Advance-Titan – for some last-minute tips.
“Tyler,” I asked, “as an expert in gluttonous journalism, do you have any advice for me before tomorrow’s bacon-eating contest?”
“Look in the blackest depths of your heart,” he said. “At some point, you’ll find a hole that’s been crudely carved from it by the sharp, cutting sorrow that is existence. Fill that hole with as much bacon as possible. Eat like there’s no tomorrow, even though (unfortunately) there probably will be.
“Also, eat breakfast and a light lunch that day. And drink a lot of water, too. If you starve yourself the night before, your stomach will shrink.”
I wasn’t sure how much the depths of my heart would factor into this competition, but the day-of advice was decent, and I had the “void of existence” in the back of my mind in case it needed summoning.
At long last, it was July 3. The day of baconing was upon us. As the city readied to celebrate American Independence, I readied my stomach for the pending aporkalypse. I spent the previous day drinking water and overeating – Culver’s basket with cheese curds, most of a frozen pizza, a host of pantry snacks – to expand my stomach, and had consumed merely a cup of chicken noodle soup on the day of the contest. My sister gave me some good last-minute advice, telling me to rip up the bacon with my hands to cut down on chewing time.
By 5:15 p.m., I was backstage at the Uline Warehouse. To my surprise, this contest was taking place on the actual stage, and there was a sizable crowd gathered – many of whom were given “bacon hats.” Patrick Cudahy representatives proceeded to arrange a table onstage as the next act (Logan Mize) sound-checked.
Then, the bacon arrived. Two plates, each holding a pound of bacon, were placed on a seat in front of each contestant. And this was not your usual grocery store pound – the bacon was cooked and then weighed to reach a full pound. It was a truly ungodly amount of meat. “This is a stupid idea,” I thought, right as my name was announced and I made my way onstage.
As for the contest, well, you can watch it here:
In the end, I accomplished my three main goals: 1) don’t embarrass yourself more than you already have, 2) don’t vomit, and 3) don’t get divorced. I did not win – some dude from Hartland was there on a mission – but the bacon tasted pretty good and I didn’t need to stare into the existence’s eternal void to make my way through the 120 seconds of competitive consumption.
And after letting my stomach settle for a few hours, I made my way to see Milwaukee’s Webster X play to a huge crowd at the Miller Lite Oasis, saw the July 3 fireworks display, and stayed for Sylvan Esso’s entire wonderful headlining set at the Johnson Controls World Stage.
And now, for the rest of my days, I can tell people I placed fifth in the first-ever Patrick Cudahy Bacon Eating Contest at Summerfest and awoke the next day to celebrate freedom.
I love this country. I really do.
