Everyone loves the idea of being a food journalist, but few see the downsides: the countless mediocre meals fatly sandwiching the exceptional ones, the weight gain, the late nights, and the most dreaded of all: the inevitable bouts of gastroenteritis.
I am usually quite disciplined about not eating out â or at least not eating risky dishes â days before an important engagement or holiday. But this time, things did not quite work out.
At a dinner, an oyster-led dish was presented. It occurred to me that perhaps it would not be the best idea to eat it. But, out of respect to my host, plus a dash of misplaced confidence in the bivalve, I ate one bite before burying the rest in my bowl of rice.
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