My Love/Hate Relationship With Fat

Guilt is good. It is an emotion that I savor with each blissful tablespoonful of Butter Pecan ice-cream straight from the carton; with each profoundly satisfying bite of crispy skin chicken; with each euphoric morsel of USDA Prime sirloin steak, marbled with rivulets of sizzling, juicy, flavorful fat. Oh, come on, we all love fat. Is there one among us who will speak for delicious fat while there is a witch-hunt going on? “Fat Police” and nutrition educators are plying us with information–instructing us on how to find hidden fat and flush it out before we swallow–pouring on the guilt. Even good fat can be bad fat.

But do we really care? The most often ordered food in Canada today is french fries. The hoi poloi buy diet cookbooks and frozen diet dinners at the supermarket. The rich employ nutritionists, live in chefs and personal trainers. There is a billion dollar “diet industry” in North America. It loves fat too.

“How do I love thee, let me count the ways.” (apologies to E.B. Browning):

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