Guilt-free eating

If there's one thing that both my parents have taught me throughout my ongoing food education, it's that one can never have a guilty conscience when it comes to eating. Do what you must do, and be proud of it. And always think of yourself before others. My first brutal induction into this ideology came from my Uncle Iain at a very early age. Every Sunday lunch he would successfully divert my concentration away from my roast to some non-existent bird or creature in the garden with an exclamation of surprise. It only took him that split second to swoop in, hawk-like, and extract the most delicious part of my lunch - always the crackling, if there was any. Many, many of the choicest morsels have been lost to my Uncle Iain, but do I resent him? Don't be ridiculous. Instead I have admired and learned from his quick-wit and deftness, and have since reaped the benefits of his example from the plates of my younger brother and sisters.

My mother has always presented herself as a fine example of a guilt-free eater. Her weakness (or should I say strength?) is chocolate. Most notorious of all, is the time that she bought a box of Lindt bunnies as a gift for a friend, and nibbled the ears off in the few hours between purchasing the chocolates and handing them over. When confronted about it now, she makes no apology, merely shrugs and says, 'They're my favourite'.

My sister and I have learned never to be embarrassed about our attitude towards food. If you are in Argentina, the home of the steak, and you want to have it for both lunch and supper, then you must do so. At Christmas, count out the canapes so you know exactly how many each person should get, and be quick to scold those who are having more than their fair share. If no-one wants to share the cheese-fondue for two, have the whole thing to yourself. Grab the last brownie, serve yourself first, always lick the bowl, and most importantly, do it with pride.