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Let me eat cake.
Aug. 6th, 2010 10:58 amI don't know if you've ever been to Stroud in Gloucestershire, but according to those who know such things it is apparently the 'most alternative place in Britain'.
I'm never entirely sure what this means but I think it has something to do with outrageously high property prices, because whenever the word 'alternative' is used it's a pretty sure bet that there will be a lot of disposable income involved somewhere along the line as having your Chakras balanced doesn't come cheap. As it is, Stroud is an extremely pretty little town at the junction of five valleys, each of which is dotted with farmhouses built from local honey-coloured stone and seemingly entirely inhabited by the sort of person who made a packet as an oil trader for Trafigura before moving to the country and joining the Green Party. I was there last weekend.
I spent the afternoon wandering around the town with its farmers market and little second-hand bookshops and local museum and after a while I fancied a sit down and a cuppa so I wandered into an organic, fair-trade cooperative cafe.
It takes a certain sort of place to support organic, fair-trade cooperatives. Where I grew up in Doncaster the closest they have to that sort of thing is KFC, and this one didn't disappoint. On the community noticeboard at the door they not only had adverts for eight different yoga groups (including niche groups like yoga for pregnancy and yoga for toddlers*) but also, to my delight, a flyer for a 'men's encounter group run by Hugo and Swithin'**.
I took a seat and ordered a mug of Chinese Gunpowder tea*** whilst I browsed the menu, and as I read my eye lit upon the following dietary masterpiece - a macrobiotic, organic, gluten-free, sugar-free, dairy-free cake. I looked at it. It looked at me. I couldn't resist. I ordered a slice.
It looked like cake. It smelled kinda like cake. The texture was sort of cake-like, if very crumbly. However, it tasted like someone had taken a cake and sucked all the joy out of it. It was like a cake which had been attacked by a Dementor. I know some people have various food intolerances, but I have my suspicions that the primary market for such confections is people who want to eat cake but don't want to derive any pleasure from doing so beyond the pleasure of knowing they're healthier than Chelsea-bun gobbling oinkers like me. Beyond that, this was baking with no reason.
Anyway, I've learned my lesson. If you'll excuse me I'm off to eat a Crunchie, and then I'm going to the gym this evening to get rid of it again.
*But not Yoga for fat, sarcastic cynics, so my market isn't covered yet.
**I totally wish I could have gone to this. A men's encounter group run by Hugo and Swithin? That's comedy gold right there, ladies and gentlemen. Comedy Gold.
**Which doesn't contain any actual gunpowder, much to my dismay.
I'm never entirely sure what this means but I think it has something to do with outrageously high property prices, because whenever the word 'alternative' is used it's a pretty sure bet that there will be a lot of disposable income involved somewhere along the line as having your Chakras balanced doesn't come cheap. As it is, Stroud is an extremely pretty little town at the junction of five valleys, each of which is dotted with farmhouses built from local honey-coloured stone and seemingly entirely inhabited by the sort of person who made a packet as an oil trader for Trafigura before moving to the country and joining the Green Party. I was there last weekend.
I spent the afternoon wandering around the town with its farmers market and little second-hand bookshops and local museum and after a while I fancied a sit down and a cuppa so I wandered into an organic, fair-trade cooperative cafe.
It takes a certain sort of place to support organic, fair-trade cooperatives. Where I grew up in Doncaster the closest they have to that sort of thing is KFC, and this one didn't disappoint. On the community noticeboard at the door they not only had adverts for eight different yoga groups (including niche groups like yoga for pregnancy and yoga for toddlers*) but also, to my delight, a flyer for a 'men's encounter group run by Hugo and Swithin'**.
I took a seat and ordered a mug of Chinese Gunpowder tea*** whilst I browsed the menu, and as I read my eye lit upon the following dietary masterpiece - a macrobiotic, organic, gluten-free, sugar-free, dairy-free cake. I looked at it. It looked at me. I couldn't resist. I ordered a slice.
It looked like cake. It smelled kinda like cake. The texture was sort of cake-like, if very crumbly. However, it tasted like someone had taken a cake and sucked all the joy out of it. It was like a cake which had been attacked by a Dementor. I know some people have various food intolerances, but I have my suspicions that the primary market for such confections is people who want to eat cake but don't want to derive any pleasure from doing so beyond the pleasure of knowing they're healthier than Chelsea-bun gobbling oinkers like me. Beyond that, this was baking with no reason.
Anyway, I've learned my lesson. If you'll excuse me I'm off to eat a Crunchie, and then I'm going to the gym this evening to get rid of it again.
*But not Yoga for fat, sarcastic cynics, so my market isn't covered yet.
**I totally wish I could have gone to this. A men's encounter group run by Hugo and Swithin? That's comedy gold right there, ladies and gentlemen. Comedy Gold.
**Which doesn't contain any actual gunpowder, much to my dismay.
