The Eater has a piece titled Actually, How Donald Trump Eats His Steak Matters; I’m not sure I buy it entirely, but it’s an interesting argument:
Trump’s insistence on well-done meat has been extensively documented; it’s now as much a part of the man’s mythology as his sine-wave hair and preferred female silhouette. “It would rock on the plate, it was so well done” is how Trump’s butler described his employer’s preferred preparation to the New York Times. In February of last year, at a New Hampshire steakhouse, it’s how Trump ordered a bone-in ribeye. Do you know how long it takes to cook a bone-in ribeye all the way through? It takes a long time. You need to really want it…
But if you’re Donald Trump — the President of the United States of America, the man who is, now and for the foreseeable future, the most powerful figure in the world — categorically rejecting external input can be catastrophic. It may just be steak, but it’s also everything: It’s a choice to silence experts who suggest a different path, to dismiss their course corrections, to reject the very premise that expertise outside his person can have value.
As I said, not sure I buy it. Trump certainly has execrable taste in nearly every respect, and he is certainly utterly unfit for any public office (least of all the Presidency), but I don’t really think the latter follows from the former. On the other hand, the piece make more sense if you take it less literally–that is, if you take Trump’s tastes in food as a metaphor for a much larger failing in his character and his ability to govern.