Let me count the ways…
I have been thinking about all the other things that I should excise from my life on those very grounds. After all, more than half of my life is over and it really doesn’t make sense to waste what’s left.
To meddle with molecular gastronomy.
If I had a rupee for when anyone told me about how food is the new porn, I would be a rich woman. But I digress. Of all the new-fangled food trends, the one I find most annoying is the one called molecular gastronomy. This is something that should strictly be left to the experts like Ferran Adrià, Heston Blumenthal and Gaggan Anand. It does the movement no favours when talentless chefs run amok with liquid nitrogen and a chemistry set.
Well, they can certainly insist on cooking it, but I sure as hell ain't eating it.
To be a gym bunny.
There is nothing more tedious than impersonating a hamster on a wheel as you walk on inexorably on a treadmill, quite literally going nowhere. Ditto, the cross-trainer, the exercise bike, the rowing machine or any other infernal device designed to torture our body into submission.
Far more interesting to go for a walk in the park, watch the world go by, eavesdrop on fleeting conversations, play ball with your kids, gambol around with the dog, or cool off with an dip in the pool. If that seems too low impact for you dedicated exercisers, then play a game of tennis or badminton, anything that gets your heart-rate going. But running on a conveyer belt while staring sadly at a TV screen? Never.
From HT Brunch, August 11
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