If there’s one thing I can’t stand, it’s cigarettes. It’s the nastiest habit ever, and I don’t care that Kate Moss looks cool strutting down the Louis Vuitton runway puffing away. It gives off the wrong message and should not be glorified by size zero fashionistas. Or any fashionistas for that matter.
It’s logical that models smoke (to achieve the skeleton look you need a bit of tobacco) but what remains a complete mystery to me is chefs that smoke. Many times a week I walk past a very popular Italian restaurant in Chelsea and I’m met by this appetising table.
Fags. Sometimes with our without the smoking chefs. That disgusts me. There they are, supposed to be cooking up the nicest fare in the neighbourhood, worried about the freshest ingredients and best produce. And then they walk back after a cigarette break and ruin the fine food with their cancer breaths. You think I’m exaggerating? Honey, I haven’t even started.
It’s a common look seeing exhausted chefs hanging about outside their restaurants rewarding themselves with a fag. I know of at least three other restaurants on Fulham Road where I’ve seen chefs with a cigarette in hand. The problem is, if they want to kill off their tastebuds, how sure am I that the food they serve taste good?
When an Environmental Health Officer checks a kitchen, he should also check the backdoor. And when it’s finally forbidden to smoke in public places, I’ll be a happy camper. Rant finished.