Talking to my best friend the other day about celery, I said I'd eaten so much of it when I was a teenager because of the negative calories myth, chomping whole stalks of it, that when I hit my feminist stride and decided dieting was for retrosexists, I went cold turkey on celery. In my postfeminist late twenties, I rediscovered rom coms, embraced cupcakes but somehow never quite got round to letting celery back into my life. Only in the last few years have I started eating it again—and very much enjoying it.
To which my friend said she just didn't like the taste. What, I said, so you have no ideological reason for not eating it? You just don't like the taste? The silence on the end of the phone made me realise that yet again I had been overthinking...
In other celery news, artist Carl Warner's celery forest is amazing.
even better braised in a little chicken stock....
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