Unholy trilogy: beer, the VQ, and biscuits

The Viola Question (VQ) provided the biscuits—300 of them—and Porn 'n Chicken bought the beer, as 11 brave volunteers sat around a table at Phelps Gate, a veritable wind tunnel in the throes of last Sun., Feb. 25's afternoon's unforeseen, bitterly cold rainstorm. Not even the trashy weather could deter them from participating in a historic event, the first-ever Yale Biscuit Eating Contest, whose sole purpose (besides entertainment) was "to test the biscuit-eating skill of the Yale community," VQ member Jeff Miller, MC '03, explained. "Why else?"

PATRICIA STRINGEL/YH Biscuit-eating: fun for truckers, wanna-be pimps, and mad Vikings alike.

A hush fell over the small crowd that had gathered to witness the spectacle as Miller announced the rules: with half a glass of water per round, each competitor would have to completely eat one biscuit every two minutes. The last man eating would take the prize, a coveted VQ t-shirt. The VQ would also start a $20 scholarship fund for an unspecified "underprivileged youth" in the name of the first person to, ahem, lose his biscuits.

The scholarship fund, while nice, seemed a little optimistic, or as optimistic as one can be about booting. A biscuit every two minutes? Piece of biscuit, right? Well, not exactly. The steadily growing crowd grew silent as the difficulty of forcing down the dry, sub-Popeye's quality biscuits in the surprisingly short allotted time became apparent. Competitor Jamie Ponsoldt, MC '01, broke the silence with a weak lament: "I need some gravy." Alarmed by the sudden gathering, a couple of Yale cops surveyed the scene. "Poor guys," one of the officers sighed, shaking his head. "They won't eat for days."

Only on biscuit number four did the first loser of the contest emerge: Ian Cheney, BK '02, was cashed. "The pressure was too great," he shrugged. "I couldn't get 'em down. That last one was sawdust." "Actually, mine tastes like an eraser," participant Scott Peterman, JE '02, said between mouthfuls.

Biscuit 13 proved one biscuit too many for competitor Mike Zimmer, DC '01, decked out in a Viking cap and intimidating purple cape for the occasion. The self-proclaimed "6'6", 215 lbs. of biscuit-eating machinery" noted, "It's not size, it's how you eat the fucking biscuit." By the time the sole chick, Mel Lind, JE '02, called it quits a biscuit later, only three of the original 11 competitors remained at the table: Peterman and Ponsoldt, both natives of Athens, Ga. (a supposed edge), and Nat Rich, CC '02.

Soon the sheer mass of biscuit consumed began to reach perilous proportions. The audience, which had grown to about 30, cringed as Peterman caved in to the pressure and, partly for strategy's sake, booted into an empty beer box. Only seconds later, Ponsoldt followed suit. Somehow, the slender, small-framed Rich held it together, but not for long. "Get him the box," VQ member Alex Timbers, ES '01, said quietly as Rich made a signal. The crowd watched in awe as the three warriors plowed on, biscuit after booting episode after umpteenth biscuit. At number 15, for safety's sake, the rules were changed to allow five minutes per biscuit. Despite the extra time, Peterman couldn't go on. "I'm out," he announced calmly, earning a round of applause.

As the debacle continued, one spectator said, "My money's on Jamie. Nat is from Manhattan. There's no way he'll beat a kid from Georgia." In fact, Ponsoldt's endurance did prove the strongest, even through three bouts of Linda-Blair-style projectile vomiting were made all the more horrifying in light of his constant Zen-like calm. (Note to the VQ: Next time, don't forget to have a young priest and an old priest on hand.) After 58 minutes and 19 biscuits, Rich gracefully bowed out, ceding the victory to Ponsoldt. Over the enthusiastic applause of the shocked, relieved audience, the champion triumphantly downed a 20th biscuit, crying out "victory biscuit!" The crowd went wild. "Ponsoldt, you're a king," Timbers said with awe, smiling in disbelief. "We never thought the contest would go this far," he admitted proudly. And who knew it would be so much fun? As the crowd dispersed, contest officials went to find a hose to clean up the mess. Understandably, Ponsoldt couldn't stay to help them clean up. With a grin he explained, "I'm going to the Doodle to celebrate."

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