Once upon a time there were four cows: a brown one, a white one, a pink one and a yellow one. Everyone who saw them knew a basic fact about each of them. The brown cow was chocolate flavoured, the white one was vanilla, the pink was strawberry and the yellow was banana.
Lucky is the world in which everything looks like it tastes. Can you imagine the cultural war that would break out, if the yellow cow suddenly tasted of chocolate?
The food-styling industry has spent centuries perfecting a seductive onslaught on our senses. And I love the fact that I’m a vessel of predictable desire. I want to eat pretty pictures. I hate broken food promises.
I even count the chicken wings on takeaway drive-thru menus, so that I can be disappointed every time I get my order. It’s this awareness of betrayal, via visual stimuli, that distinguishes us from other animals.
I cannot imagine my dog feeling let down, because her dry biscuits don’t look as delicious as they do on the packaging. I’m the one who gets angry; the dog is oblivious to advertising.
I think everyone deserves the breakfast of champions. Even if they’re complete losers.