See, I’ve become quite a fan of Jack recently.
Mrs. Jack Monroe, that is.
Most of all, because she appears to be a very nice young lady, but also because she fought and conquered some seriously hard times.
Like having a small child but not enough money because the job got lost somewhere along the way.
What’s a real woman to do?
That’s right, she invents new ways of saving the better-off taxpayers’ money, cooking and eating well in the process and then she goes and blogs and writes about it.
While perusing her frugal recipes I realized I am often as simple in my cooking as she is. It doesn’t matter whether I have enough money to buy all the food I want or not: I still try not to waste any or at least as little as possible, I’ve been learning not to add things that do nothing for a meal and I mostly ask for a feedback to make things better.
Also, what I don’t do is define my social status by means of things I put on the table, hoard in the larder, talk and write about. I am not scared of other people’s opinion about the food I prepare, including bread, and I don’t break out in a rash and go screaming if something’s missing …
In other words: no Gutbürgerlichkeit in my kitchen, bitchez. Work.
So, to be quite honest with you: I hate it that there are Guardian readers who feel the need to say stupid things underneath Jack’s recipes published online. One can almost smell the fear of all those privileged eaters denigrating the simplicity of frugal cooking and the bravery of one who not only survived but also got famous by doing it.
Because if all those … financially less well-endowed (aka fraudsters) suddenly turn out to be so damn self-sufficient, there will be no one left to use for shovelling shit on and building up one’s self-confidence with, right?
(yeah, I’ve been barfing again, a bit – I have to)