

Food writer, author, and sometimes bottom John Birdsall was freshly graduated from UC Berkeley and living in the Bay Area. To understand bottom food today, we have to go back to San Francisco in the 1980s. That’s the whole point.” Hall counts more than 132,000 TikTok and 28,000 Instagram followers, numbers that have only grown in support of his work since the Postmates debacle. As long as you don’t feel like a sack of potatoes afterwards and still feel your best, go for it. “For the people eating pastrami and such, have at it. “We created the Bottom’s Digest with our recipes doing one thing as top priority, and that top priority is minimizing bloating and gas,” says Hall. Hall, who founded the viral account The Bottom’s Digest in June 2021, cooks up bottom-friendly food year-round with the aim of empowering bottoms. Earlier this month, Postmates launched a national campaign claiming to have created the “world’s first Bottom-Friendly Menu” that was criticized on social media for appropriating an intimate part of the queer experience for marketing clout and for stealing from the digital creator and chef Alex Hall, who popularized the idea.īut food personalities and chefs have been pushing back, in recent years, in favor of reinvigorating pleasure into the bottom’s diet. Joel Kim Booster’s Fire Island inserted a joke that characters wouldn’t be bottoming as they chowed down on cheese. This kind of abstention still exists in the gay community, though conversation around bottom food has reached new heights this Pride season. In a culture that’s already squeamish when it comes to talking about our bodily functions, to greater extremes, bottoms anxious about a night of intercourse might even resort to starving themselves before sex. The idea that bottoms “need to” or “should be” adjusting their choices for a cleaner sexual experience inspired a viral meme: a picture of a plate of ice cubes accompanied by a knife and fork. The goal of all this is not necessarily six-pack abs, but anxiety-free sex. That diet usually involves a regulated intake that avoids rich foods including meat and dairy, cuts out cruciferous vegetables and other bloat-inducing foods, preps before sex with anal douching, and mixes in generous helpings of the fiber supplement Pure for Men. He adheres to what some degradingly call the “bottom’s diet” - a restrictive way of eating specifically designed to attempt to avoid what the community calls a “mess” in the bedroom when on the receiving end of anal sex. It made more sense as I watched his Instagram grid populate with Fire Island group shots featuring other cisgender gay males with rippling six-packs and short-shorts. I didn’t understand at the time, but toxic gay diet culture had already reached him. In the mornings he would religiously drink a green vegetable puree that was so foul that I spat it out in the sink when he shared it with me. Though we were closeted in high school, we are both out now, him, a gay male, and me, a nonbinary dyke.Īs we planned out meals for the trip, he shot down my requests for Balthazar and Momofoku, instead making a midday reservation for a now-shuttered Meatpacking District restaurant where his favorite dish was thinly sliced squash on porous pancakes. Our Southern California teen years were characterized by getting high and driving to the famed restaurant the Hat, where the god-tier order is the stacked pastrami dip, onion rings, and an Orange Bang. Years ago, I visited my high school beard, who lives in New York City, for a long weekend of fun that I thought would center food.
