The debate flared this week following a highly active Reddit thread questioning whether VanMan's Kitchen in Pacific Beach should be avoided due to the political views of its founder, wellness influencer Jeremy Ogorek, known online as VanMan. The original poster cited Ogorek’s personal and brand-linked social media activity, including reposts supportive of Donald Trump and Robert F. Kennedy Jr., as the reason they no longer wanted to spend money at the business, although they still wanted to find fries cooked in beef tallow. The discussion quickly expanded beyond VanMan, with dozens of commenters asserting that restaurants openly advertising tallow fries are often aligned with a broader “anti-seed oil,” anti-regulatory wellness movement that has increasingly overlapped with right-wing "MAGA" politics.
The perception did not arise in a vacuum. Over the past several years, beef tallow has been championed by a growing online ecosystem of influencers who frame modern nutrition guidance as corrupt or captured by corporate interests. Figures associated with this space frequently promote raw dairy, animal fats, and “ancestral” diets while also expressing skepticism toward public health agencies, environmental regulations, and mainstream science. Some of the most visible proponents of these ideas have openly aligned themselves with RFK Jr.’s health rhetoric or MAGA-adjacent politics, blurring the line between dietary preference and ideology.
VanMan sits squarely at the center of this overlap. Ogorek built The VanMan Company into a multimillion-dollar wellness business selling tallow-based balms, tooth powders, and personal care products, supported by a large and intensely loyal online following. His messaging consistently emphasizes distrust of modern consumer systems and government oversight, and his social media history shows clear political opinions that many San Diego diners find incompatible with their values. While VanMan Kitchen itself is not yet known to explicitly promote politics in-store, the brand’s identity is inseparable from its founder, making consumer backlash almost inevitable in a market as politically attuned as San Diego.
That said, the Reddit thread also revealed how quickly nuance collapses online. Several commenters pointed out that beef tallow fries long predate modern culture wars, noting that McDonald’s famously used tallow until the 1990s and that Midwestern and European kitchens have relied on animal fats for generations. Others argued that many restaurants still use tallow quietly without advertising it, and that the controversy arises primarily when businesses market it aggressively as a moral or ideological corrective to “seed oils.”
Industry observers say this distinction matters. When tallow is presented as a technical cooking choice, it rarely draws scrutiny. When it is framed as part of a broader worldview about health, masculinity, or resistance to modern society, it becomes a cultural statement whether intended or not. In politically polarized times, that framing can directly affect where diners choose to spend their money.
The VanMan debate also underscores a broader shift in consumer behavior. More diners are treating restaurants not just as places to eat, but as extensions of personal ethics, similar to how consumers evaluate clothing brands or tech companies. In that environment, owners’ public statements and online activity increasingly factor into purchasing decisions, regardless of whether critics are “right” or “fair.”
At the same time, the backlash has prompted pushback from others who argue that politicizing ingredients represents peak internet brain rot and that food quality should stand on its own. Several commenters noted that avoiding businesses based on perceived ideology cuts both ways and mirrors boycotts long practiced by conservatives.
What is clear is that beef tallow fries have become more than fries in San Diego. They now sit at the intersection of food culture, wellness branding, and political identity. Whether that association holds long term or fades as the next trend emerges remains to be seen, but for now, a simple cooking fat has become an unexpected litmus test in the city’s dining wars.
Originally published on January 17, 2026.
