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Health is wealth

4th March 2022 03:26:16 PM | Views: 49
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  2. I only say it tastes artificial because I’m not used to this kind of flavor from an “all-natural” product. But the flavoring appears to stem largely from apple powder, which is one of the first ingredients, and acai berry, pear, pomegranate, papaya, grape, raspberry, blueberry, strawberry, blackberry, black currant, mango, and passionfruit.
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  4. It’s actually almost as sweet as real fruit juice, which might be off-putting to folks who are averse to sugary food. For my money, it’s one of th
  5. I’m really emphasizing this factor because the digestive benefits are the only claims this product makes that resonated with me. The company doesn’t disclose how much of each ingredient it contains, and it also doesn’t provide information as to what vitamins and minerals this “health supplement” actually contains.
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  7. There are only two reasons to do anything in life: a) because it feels good, or b) because it’s something you believe to be good or right. Sometimes these two reasons align. Something feels good AND is the right thing to do and that’s just  fantastic. Let’s throw a party and eat cake.
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  9. But more often, these two things don’t align. Something feels shitty but is right/good (getting up at 5AM and going to the gym, hanging out with grandma Joanie for an afternoon and making sure she’s still breathing), or something feels  great but is the bad/wrong thing to do (pretty much anything involving penises).
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  11. you had a hard day, a little bit won’t kill ya.” And you’re like, “Hey, you’re right! Thanks, brain!” What feels good suddenly feels right. And then you shamelessly inhale a pint of Cherry Garcia.
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  13. You know you shouldn’t cheat on your exam, but your brain says, “You’re working two jobs to put yourself through college, unlike these spoiled brats in your class. You deserve a little boost from time to time,” and so you sneak a peek at your classmate’s answers and voila, what feels good is also what feels right.
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  15. You know you should vote, but you tell yourself that the system is corrupt, and besides, your vote won’t matter anyway. And so you stay home and play with your new drone that’s probably illegal to fly in your neighborhood. But  it, who cares? This is America and the whole point is to get fat doing whatever you want. That’s like, the sixth amendment, or something.2
  16. You cannot have influence without authority. It’s why well-known (usually white) chefs and cookbook authors have historically been so effective in popularizing global ingredients among the North American mainstream. Think, for example, of Rick Bayless, the Chicago chef whose Mexican restaurants introduced many Midwesterners to contemporary regional Mexican cuisine, or Andy Ricker, the Portland, Oregon, chef whose Pok Pok restaurants spread the gospel of Northern Thai cooking through the Pacific Northwest and beyond. Then there’s Yotam Ottolenghi, the Israeli chef and cookbook author whose London-based restaurants and cookbooks were so effective in communicating the joys of Middle Eastern ingredients like Aleppo pepper and tahini that
  17. With 566,000 Instagram followers and legions of fans who make and then photograph her approachable, well-tested recipes — which she then reposts in her own Instagram stories — Roman is successful in part because of her understanding that social media has transformed cooking into a social experience, one that particularly resonates with millennials. It points to how aspirational desire — and the brands that tap into it, whether personal or corporate — can popularize things within that space. Oh, this is one of Alison’s recipes? I want to make it too.
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  19. Like the staff of BA, Roman’s appeal doesn’t lie just in what she does, but who she is and what she represents to her audience. She is self-deprecatingly funny, unapologetically opinionated, and, with her signature orangey-red nail polish and bold lipstick, she projects effortless cool. As Michele Moses put it in the New Yorker, “Roman, with her crackling chicken skin and red lips and nails, is libidinous and a little bit mean.” Even Roman’s kitchen, which features prominently enough in her videos to warrant its own treatment, is undeniably appealing, and its organized clutter of Le Creuset pots and hanging plants may as well have its own Pinterest page.
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  21. Roman’s loosely white style is mainstream, contemporary food culture right now: Looking through Roman’s cookbooks, Dining In and Nothing Fancy, I noticed how every second page of beautifully shot recipes seemed to feature some “mainstream” American ingredient made new with yuzu kosho or turmeric or chile oil. But even as I found myself poring over the recipes, something felt off. It was the same thing that made the fame of #thestew, Roman’s now-viral recipe for chickpeas in coconut milk and turmeric, feel a bit weird, but also vaguely familiar to me: I know these ingredients; what are white people so excited about?
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  23. Is #thestew really just a curry? (Roman has insisted it’s not, but others beg to differ.) And are all curries just stews? It’s precisely the ambiguity of what separates one from the other that makes neat assertions of cultural appropriation unhelpful, but also lets the issue linger. Less important than ascribing a strict lineage, or, worse, the retrogressive idea of cultural ownership, is the question of whether, say, a person of color could have also made a stew featuring chickpeas and turmeric go viral. Aren’t both the perceived novelty and the recipe’s virality tied to the whiteness of its creator?
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  25. For her part, Roman feels the success of that recipe was less about her than what preceded it. Talking over the phone while on the road for her book tour several months ago, she suggested her viral success wasn’t unique. “I think if it were Padma Lakshmi or Nigella Lawson or any other person who already has a platform, it could absolutely go viral,” Roman told me. “I think the only reason the stew went viral is because the cookies did.”
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  27. Perhaps that’s true, but it does seem worth asking: If a South Asian or Middle Eastern person put forth that mix of ingredients, could it have merely been #thestew, with no other descriptors attached, or would whiteness have forced it to have a name? While it wasn’t Roman who gave #thestew its label, having a thing that draws on a variety of influences, but takes on such a generic, rootless — and yet definitive — name is precisely how whiteness works: positing itself as the norm from which all other things are deviations.
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  29. “The sad thing about my cultural background is that I don’t really have one,” Roman told me with a chuckle. It’s a line she had used before, one that evokes the same self-deprecation she employs in her videos. Peering in from the outside, one of the things that seems, well, sort of fun about being white is that way in which things can just be: “Ethnic” fashion is quirky or inventive, spirituality can be a generic mix, and cuisine can simply be food. There’s a sense, too, that the collective output of Bon Appétit takes a similarly obfuscated view: It’s just food, man. I mean, imagine the freedom.
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  31. When we spoke, Roman seemed aware of this reality, if only partly. “I absolutely feel whiteness is a factor [in my success] because white privilege is everywhere. That’s not lost on me,” she said. “But I don’t think that has to exist separately from the hard work I’ve put in to create a career for myself and a palate and flavor profile.”