When the love of food turns to hate

I've been addicted to a Japanese TV program that invites pop stars to make their dreams about food come true. In the Year of the Rooster, 2005, the programmers asked primary school students to vote for their top-10 birds. The host then had to live in a wooden box beneath the branches where the birds would perch. Every day for 10 days, he had to think of a different way to cook the eggs.

First it was chicken, then duck, followed by guinea hen. On the fourth day a pelican chased and pecked the host. The next day he had to tackle the fabled swan egg.

On the sixth day a chef came to the rescue and helped the host cook up peacock eggs in ways that no ordinary cook could have dreamed of. The exhausted host was moved to tears. Finally the host fried penguin eggs with rice and remarked: "It's good, the taste is rich and the flavor is fragrant the only problem is sleeping at night."

The host reported that the guinea hen's egg tasted best and was suitable not only for scrambling but also the Japanese egg roll.

Of course, not all the shows test the hosts or guests to such an extreme. There was one edition that invited two pop stars to devour delicacies from the top 60 bakeries in Japan, in three days. They were allowed nothing else, except water.

The young ladies slept in a pastry store and fridges full of food surrounded their beds. From the moment they opened their eyes, the ladies munched on cheesecakes, doughnuts and candies. At first, there were excited cries, but gradually these died down. Only a bitter teacake or a sour apricot would brighten their faces. But for me, the thought of even one bite of these delicacies would make my toes itch.

Every child dreams of stuffing themselves with their favorite food. Yet this show maliciously laughs at the idea, bombarding the taste buds and stomachs of the hosts and guests with great food until they abhor it. Everyone who appears on the program seems to remark: "I never thought eating such tasty food for 24 hours a day could be so difficult!"

One day I turned on the TV to find three meat-loving men invited to finish off a whole cow. It was the most expensive beef and there were more than 140 dishes to be made out of the animal. But the men complained of dizziness before they could finish the 63rd course.

I really couldn't sit there and watch their affected and tired performances, especially in view of so many mouth-watering beef ryoli. But the neighborhood barbecue store wasn't open until later that evening. When it did open, the beef there couldn't possibly compare with the TV version.

As I ground the dried beef stored for five days in my fridge, hatred and remorse rose because I realized the show had caused me to lose my self-respect, by offering irresistible food that it openly denounced.

(China Daily 12/13/2007 page20)