Susan Jane White, nutritional cook and coach
TRUE CHARACTERS: If we are what we eat, then we're. . . Cheap and easy. I think we fell in love with sugar because it's naughty. But clearly it's a destructive love affair - 400 years ago the average European consumed less than a teaspoon of sugar a year. Diabetes did not exist. Today, 38 per cent of Irish adults are clinically overweight while an alarming 13 per cent of children under 12 are already obese.
Some people say life's too short to give up sugar. . . But what about the pleasures of getting lost in a novel, paddling on the beach or cycling on a sunny day? Pesky sugar cravings distract from simpler pleasures.
My guilty pleasure is. . . My coffee-bean ice cream. Although it doesn't have sugar or dairy. Does that count?
My son's favourite treat is . .. Emptying the dishwasher - he's 13 months old.
My idea of the most romantic dish for a meal is. . . Scallop and ginger sashimi. It does something funny to my thighs.
My most memorable restaurant experience was .. . On honeymoon this month, I ate a live shrimp at Noma in Copenhagen. It kept jumping out of my hands. I'd become a vegetarian, only my husband would surely annul the marriage. (Her good husband would be Trevor White, see left).
At school I really enjoyed. . . Everything. I was incorrigibly curious. (That's diplomatic speak for royal swot.)
The thing I love most about working with food is. . . Feeling like MacGyver in an apron.
Sticking to a diet can be easier if .. . The food is not penitential. Anyone for pomegranate fudge?
Becoming a mother has been . .. Outrageously good fun. And embarrassing. I'm never in clean clothes.
Are boys pickier eaters? No. Just less courageous.
When I'm cooking in the morning I love listening to. . . Tom Dunne. He's like a young Terry Wogan. In the evening my hips prefer something jazzy.
The moment in my work that brings most job satisfaction is. . . When total strangers get in touch to say how much health and happiness my recipes have brought them.
When I was small I wanted to be. . . Smurfette or Little Miss Piggy. Arguably, I have morphed into both.
My parents gave me. . . Industrial quantities of love.
The worst thing about Irish cooking is. . . Our reliance on cheap, processed foods. Our broad minds and narrow waists have begun to change places. We eat far too much salt, sugar and noxious chemicals and not enough fresh food.
The best thing about Irish cooking is. . . Our cheesemakers, organic farmers and artisan producers striving to restore pride in our country's food. Onwards ye!
For early birds, Susan Jane White will host a cookery demonstration of her sugar, dairy, gluten and wheat-free desserts at Donnybrook Fair in Dublin 4 this morning at 10.30am. Price €55 a head. See susanjanemurray.com
In conversation with Catherine Cleary
WORD ON THE STREET: Trashion
What it means: The next time someone comes up to you and says, "Your dress – it's rubbish", don't take offence. They've just noticed you're wearing a little number made from old curtains and doilies and acknowledging your cutting-edge, up-to-the-minute style. Trashion is recycled fashion, typified by clothes knocked up from stuff found in charity shops, remnant sales and – most likely – skips.
Where it comes from: Designers have always tried to turn old rags into new fashion, but in recent years, recessionistas have embraced the trashion aesthetic like never before. Nothing is too disposable to be refashioned: sack-cloth, parachute material, old cans – you're only limited by your imagination. Designers are falling over themselves to create the most amazing outfits from old tat. At this rate, don't be surprised if that bag lady trawling through your skip turns out to be Stella McCartney. Although signs are that trashion has hit rock bottom, with Rubberbandits wearing Spar bags on their heads – sooo last week's grocery shopping, dahling.
How to say it:Sweetie, those slacks are so tatty they're in danger of coming back in trashion.
