BRYONY GORDON: I'm sick of sanctimonious wellness bores. They claim we're swimming in a toxic soup... but I know what really drives their obsession
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Like any sane person living on the frozen islands of Britain, I’d been looking forward to the first Sunday roast of the year from the moment my breath had begun to mist up while at home watching Grey’s Anatomy re-runs. The date for this much-anticipated meal had been in the diary for weeks: a small meet-up at one of those swish gastro-pubs to celebrate my sister’s 42nd birthday. As I shivered under my heated blanket, I imagined the giant Yorkshire pudding I’d drown in gravy, the piping-hot cauliflower cheese I’d order as a side, the roast beef served pink that I would dip in horseradish sauce.
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For the first few days of 2025, thoughts of this roast were just about the only thing getting me through. So imagine my disappointment when, on the day itself, my order was met with looks of surprised disapproval from everyone at the table. ‘I’ll have the green salad as a main,’ mumbled my sister, blushing in embarrassment at my New Year’s faux-pas. ‘Make mine the soup,’ added my horrified husband. ‘Can I have the nut roast with all the trimmings?’ said another friend. ‘Except of course for the potatoes and the Yorkshire pudding.’.
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‘That just sounds like some vegetables with a side of roasted cashews,’ I remarked, as said friend poured a sachet of green powder into her glass of water. (She told me it was a special supplement, presumably to provide her with the nutrients she might normally get through the eating of actual food.).
Later, as I slumped into a carb coma, I read with horror about the rise of ‘Crunchy Moms’ in the US. Crunchy Moms are the all-natural, all-organic women who parent in a holistic way, favouring unprocessed food over fish fingers. (The ‘Crunchy’ refers to the fact they prefer granola and would never feed their kids Coco Pops.).
