“Mod­ern-day hero­ism is hav­ing no fear of eat­ing re­heated food”

Sunday Herald Sun - Stellar - - Contents - Kate co-hosts 4–6pm week­days, on the KIIS FM net­work.

The world, it seems, is al­ways look­ing for an un­likely hero. There ap­pears to be a deep-seated needd to wit­ness some­one whose ac­tions el­e­vate ate us. Af­ter all, to see some­one over­come­come fear is re­mark­able. And it can oc­curr in un­ex­pected ways. It may be a passerby erby who snatches a wan­der­ing tod­dler­ler from the path of an on­com­ing om­ing car. It may be a pudgy school­boy ol­boy who takes on his bully y and wins. Or it may be me, who goes qui­etly aboutut her busi­ness, eat­ing food that oth­ers are too scared ed to touch.

(I’m ’m leav­ing a pause here for the per­nick­ety amongng you to point out that writ­ing this in a ma­jo­ra­jor magazine doesn’tn’t con­sti­tute be­ing g “quiet” about my hero­ism. ism. And then, an­oth­er­her pause, to let you jab at this page and pro­claim: laim: “Food oth­ers are toooo scared to touch? Codswal­lop!” swal­lop!” Be­cause, in this his sce­nario, you are a cur­mud­geonly bar­ris­ter is­ter from an Agatha ha Christie novel with h a de­meanour that doesn’t “suf­fer fools” ” and a bristling mous­tache,stache, slightly ni­co­tine-stained at its tips from reg­u­lar im­mer­sion in cups of Earl Grey tea, bowls of mul­li­gatawny soup and ac­tual ni­co­tine, all of which re­mind you of your time under the Raj in In­dia.In­dia Any­way, I di­gress. And – heads up,u Rumpole – we’re all a lit­tle over y your con­stant need to butt in. So please let me get on with it. Tha Thanks.) You see, the mod­ern w world is scared of food. And I don’td just mean the de­mon­is­ingde­mon­isi of cer­tain foods (Fat! Eggs!Eggs Salt! Dairy! Sugar!). We al­soals seem ter­ri­fied of preparin pre­par­ing and cook­ing our food, as if it’s wait­ing, like a ta tasty as­sas­sin, to kil kill us. There are coun count­less ads on TV for h hand sani­tiser and k kitchen dis­in­fec­tants, en end­less health de­partme depart­ment ads about the im­porta im­por­tance of us­ing sep­a­rate chop­ping­cho boards for ve­g­ies and meat, and a slav­ish ad­her­encead­here to “use-by” dates. These days, you can’tca go to a sausage siz­zle w with­out see­ing vol­un­teer helper­she wear­ing plas­tic glo gloves and bran­dish­ing fo food­han­dling cer­tifi­cates. All this to cook sausages, wh which are made from the conte con­tents of Satan’s out­house. It’s n nuts.

Once, I drove over to a friend’s house to pick up five con­tain­ers of Chi­nese take­away she WAS GO­ING TO THROW OUT – so ter­ri­fied was she of re­heat­ing food that, she said, had al­ready been re­heated. And yet our house­hold ate it two days later, and it was de­li­cious.

I don’t doubt that you need to be sen­si­ble with food, but I think we’ve got­ten a lit­tle car­ried away. Frozen Chi­nese blue­ber­ries aside, I don’t think it’s that easy to get food poi­son­ing. And here is the inar­guable proof: school lunches. Mil­lions of lunch boxes sit in the sun all day, of­ten next to the corpse of yes­ter­day’s un­eaten sanger. Their con­tents are then con­sumed at room tem­per­a­ture hours later; cheese and ham and but­ter and may­on­naise and chicken and left­over roast and yo­ghurt.

And yet, who has ever heard of a child get­ting food poi­son­ing from a school lunch? I rest my case. Not on the kitchen bench, of course. That would be un­san­i­tary. I’m brave, not fool­ish.

Hugh­esy & Kate,

“Mil­lions of school lunch boxes sit in the sun all day, next to the corpse of yes­ter­day’s un­eaten sanger”

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