Fat

Rick gave me a book for my birthday titled “Fat: An Appreciation of a Misunderstood Ingredient, With Recipes,” by Jennifer McLagan.

Don’t think badly of Rick: I specifically asked for the book weeks ago.

Part anthropology text, part exquisite photo essay, and part cookbook, it’s mostly a nutritional “dust” disturber on the positive aspects of cooking with and consuming animal fat.

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Standing in a local cooking store at the book section, I had picked it up and read this paragraph:

“We have never been more obsessed with diet, exercise, and cutting the fat out of our food as we are in the new millennium, and never have we been fatter or unhealthier. Our approach to food is schizophrenic: if we enjoy a meal that has a lot of flavor, and therefore fat, we punish ourselves with a salad and a low-fat dressing from a bottle. There is something fundamentally wrong when, in a society of plenty, we fear what is on our plate, seeing our food as a poison (or, alternatively, as a medicine). I would argue that we are not just frightened of fat, but we are also fearful of pleasure. Eating is essential to life, and it is a pleasure that we can share with friends and enjoy in public. It should be a happy experience, not a torturous trial. How did we come to this?”

It turns out I’m not the only one who would like an answer to this question. The book is sold out on amazon.com (as of today) and will ship again once they can get inventory.

Meanwhile, eat your butter.

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