In many ways, January diets are as self-indulgent as the Christmas binge.
Once upon a time, the food of Venice was considered the finest in Europe, “specialising in wild boar, peacock, venison, elaborate salads and architectural pastries”.
Scott Cunningham’s Encyclopedia of Wicca in the Kitchen, “a practical guide to food magic”, promises, rather thrillingly, that from now on, every “munch of celery will resonate with new meaning”.
Less than a century ago Iraq’s ancient Jewish community made up a third of Baghdad’s population but is now estimated at no more than seven individuals.
I don’t know how I got this far without sampling the mush that sustains the Southern states.
There is currently no international law or body that can organise the detection and prevention of fake medicines - and it's a critical threat to our ability to fight deadly diseases.
Will Self’s Madness of Crowds column.
Here's a friendly piece of advice: a conscientious host should "exercise some ingenuity over the eats. It may not merely be a jaded appetite, but a connoisseur in food who comes to her informal party."
That food should be subject to the most ruthless commoditisation under late capitalism is only to be expected, but that we should for one second allow ourselves to enjoy it is a miserable and gut-wrenching experience.