It would appear that most British “foodies” are big fat liars. I knew it – in your face (or indeed your mouths), tyrannical foodie-poseurs! Perhaps that’s a tad harsh, but an Ocado study of 2,000 people discovered that, while foodies amass an impressive array of cookbooks and are supposed to be more adventurous than previous generations, most still stick to rotating the same nine meals.
That sounds about right – except for the nine meals. I can do about four, but that would include sandwiches. My style could loosely be termed “experimental”. I concoct the kind of tragic lukewarm indoor picnics that, if secretly photographed by inmates at Guantánamo Bay, would lead to an international human rights uproar. It’s not my fault – I have timing issues and, also, couldn’t-care-less issues. To me, getting everything (cue technical term) “sort of hot at the same time” is a logistical bore too far. There’s a vast fuzzy dead space where my culinary aspirations should be and I’m absolutely fine with that.
To be clear, this indifference isn’t about food quality (what’s in it, what shouldn’t be in it). Not only am I a vegetarian, my shelves are groaning with tomes about the perils of sugar, hormone-stuffed meat, processed carbs and the rest. It’s not about self-willed ignorance, it’s about the relentless faff some people make of cooking – when, in truth, most of us are better off in restaurants, rather than trying to recreate complex dishes.
Genuine low-key foodies, who just enjoy cooking, are fine, but then there are the foodie-tyrants and poseurs – easy to spot, because there’s always a lot of guff about sourcing the ingredients. Didn’t this used to be nipping to the shops? If you’re not a food professional, why the need for pomposity? If anything, true food professionals tend to talk most affectionately and vividly about simple dishes they were served as children – it’s usually the non-professionals who attempt to confound and intimidate.
The only thing worse than foodie tyrants are the self-styled foodie porn stars. Those people who’re determined to present their foodie-ness as proof of their innately superior sensuality and physicality. (For those not getting the message clearly enough, they mean “good in bed”).
It’s been some time since Nigella Lawson burst on to the food scene and you’d think that people would be over it. However, many persist with the delusion that boring on about some torn-up basil leaves they munched in Tuscany makes them hot stuff. Otherwise, they’re dragging their finger through their pudding (or yours!), licking said digit and proclaiming how “naughty” they are. For the last time, the beauteous, negligée-clad Ms Lawson minxishly nicking a dollop of cream from the fridge is simply not the same as someone like you or me shuffling about, half-cut, in a bathrobe, leaving gouged finger marks in the rubbish pavlova everyone refused to eat earlier.
Memo to persistent foodie porn stars: you’re so 2001! I always think, instead of leadenly using edibles to demonstrate how good you are in bed, why not just be good in bed? I’m sure we’ve all known people who couldn’t open a bag of crisps without making a mess but who turned out to have, shall we say, other interesting qualities. As it is, the continuing food-sex tyranny brings out the rebel in me. To the point where it’s quite liberating to stand leaning against a microwave, gnawing on a chaotically assembled cheese sandwich, announcing: “I can’t cook, and I simply couldn’t care less.”
To carry on the sex analogy, at least people like myself aren’t guilty of “faking it”, which is more than can be said for all those foodies who talk a good game, yet don’t deliver. Vindication is ours, fellow won’t-cooks.
Lady Penelope, what have they done to you?
The new-look Thunderbirds characters have been unveiled for the forthcoming ITV reboot and, unfortunately, the result isn’t pretty. I’m not a Gerry Anderson obsessive, but even I thought that I could have done better than that with a packet of Crayola crayons, a cup of strong coffee and a rainy afternoon.
Lady Penelope, formerly the prettiest puppet of all (if that’s not too weird a remark), looks as if she’s been shortlisted to join the cast of Towie and intends on opening a high-concept bikini-waxing emporium. Brains has been “re-imagined” as a metrosexual Google employee who’s been dressed by Gok Wan in a really bad mood. Parker, the chauffeur, resembles a Russian assassin who does low-paid gigolo work on the side.
One sympathises with ITV, as there are always complaints when famous characters are updated – given skateboards, or crack habits, or whatever. Sometimes, as with Enid Blyton, such modernising is welcome – except for those who prefer anti-semitism and general racism with their children’s literature. Still, poor old Thunderbirds fans. Some are saying they preferred “seeing the strings” but this appears to be the least of their problems.
If death’s like a nap, they can keep it
A 22-year-old man has been answering questions online on Reddit about his experiences of being clinically dead, not once, but twice. The first time he “died” his body shut down after a motorcycle accident, the second time was due to too many painkillers after surgery.
According to the man, there’s no long tunnel, no bright light, nor host of heavenly angels, never mind St Peter or the pearly gates. Indeed, there’s nothing that any religion talks about. There’s not even a bunch of dead ancestors to show you around. On the contrary, he says that there’s just black “nothingness” and, when he awoke, it felt as though he’d had a “short nap with no dream”.
Obviously, this man didn’t die (as in, he’s alive now), which raises questions about the state of his consciousness during these experiences. However, let’s not quibble. Especially those of us who hunger to know what it’s like to be dead without the inherent drawbacks of experiencing it first-hand.
My problem with this account is that it makes death sound incredibly boring. Bearing in mind that if you did it twice, the second time you’d hope to make more of an effort. To me, this seems akin to going on Walt Disney World’s pitch-black Space Mountain ride and refusing to try to see through the darkness. Or, perhaps the Harry Potter ride at Universal Studio, which attracts a huge queue. Seriously, you don’t want to be taking a “short nap” once you finally get on it.
Apologies for my facetiousness. Both of those experiences are expensive, while death is still free. Ultimately, the Reddit man should be commended for not fabricating wild embellishments. However, by his account, the death-thing sounds rather dull. I’m not sure it will catch on.
