Well, let's hope he goes out of business. I know a ginger somewhat older than yer man yet inclined to the same sort of troughing - and Tod might consider mending his ways. The German for Death,'Tod', all that. The last time I went down to Londonistan, not recently, even Brasserie Zédel had gone off colour (though not so déguelasse as Tod's) and massively up in price. Suggest eventual move to provinces and houses with reasonably large and functional kitchens.
Tod is no fun. Posting about Tod's existence endangers the health and happiness of millions. It must stop. I appeal in particular to the editors of Pimlico Journal. Stop the madness. Don't mention Tod ever again. There are better things in life.
Tod isn’t a food influencer — he’s a sticky-fingered hype goblin whose antics do more to undermine food culture than he could ever fathom. It’s no longer about taste, restraint, or craft; it’s about spectacle and excess. He’s imported the worst parts of the American “bigger is better” ethos, wrapped in a vile James-Corden-style insincere, performative persona.
In Tod-land, you can’t just have a burger — it must be six inches tall, stuffed with five sauces, bacon, egg, truffle shavings, confit onions, and whatever else can be ladled on for the camera. His wide-eyed, kindergarten-level excitement whenever someone slices a steak as if they’ve performed sorcery doesn’t elevate food — it infantilises it. And if you're not as happy-spastic excited as he is, then you obviously "don't get it".
The message is clear: food isn’t something you learn, appreciate, or make; it’s something consumed as spectacle, delivered by wizards while Tod drools and demands more bacon, more cheese, more slop like a spoiled child on Christmas morning.
The tragedy isn’t Tod himself — it’s the audience. People watch this syrupy trash and walk away thinking:
I can’t cook. My food will never look or feel like that. I don’t scream with delight over melted cheese, so I must be doing it wrong.
So they outsource nourishment to faceless supermarkets and overpriced food stalls — because Tod has convinced them that cooking is performance, not competence.
ouch, you hurt my feelings! I guess longer-form writing and expressing an opinion is not welcomed. Next time, I'll keep it generic, less than 30 words to avoid such chagrin!
Well, let's hope he goes out of business. I know a ginger somewhat older than yer man yet inclined to the same sort of troughing - and Tod might consider mending his ways. The German for Death,'Tod', all that. The last time I went down to Londonistan, not recently, even Brasserie Zédel had gone off colour (though not so déguelasse as Tod's) and massively up in price. Suggest eventual move to provinces and houses with reasonably large and functional kitchens.
Zedel is enormously overrated
Tod is no fun. Posting about Tod's existence endangers the health and happiness of millions. It must stop. I appeal in particular to the editors of Pimlico Journal. Stop the madness. Don't mention Tod ever again. There are better things in life.
interesting
#bunfreemonday
Tod isn’t a food influencer — he’s a sticky-fingered hype goblin whose antics do more to undermine food culture than he could ever fathom. It’s no longer about taste, restraint, or craft; it’s about spectacle and excess. He’s imported the worst parts of the American “bigger is better” ethos, wrapped in a vile James-Corden-style insincere, performative persona.
In Tod-land, you can’t just have a burger — it must be six inches tall, stuffed with five sauces, bacon, egg, truffle shavings, confit onions, and whatever else can be ladled on for the camera. His wide-eyed, kindergarten-level excitement whenever someone slices a steak as if they’ve performed sorcery doesn’t elevate food — it infantilises it. And if you're not as happy-spastic excited as he is, then you obviously "don't get it".
The message is clear: food isn’t something you learn, appreciate, or make; it’s something consumed as spectacle, delivered by wizards while Tod drools and demands more bacon, more cheese, more slop like a spoiled child on Christmas morning.
The tragedy isn’t Tod himself — it’s the audience. People watch this syrupy trash and walk away thinking:
I can’t cook. My food will never look or feel like that. I don’t scream with delight over melted cheese, so I must be doing it wrong.
So they outsource nourishment to faceless supermarkets and overpriced food stalls — because Tod has convinced them that cooking is performance, not competence.
you are an AI slop bot, posting about a slop merchant. I am not sure who is worse.
ouch, you hurt my feelings! I guess longer-form writing and expressing an opinion is not welcomed. Next time, I'll keep it generic, less than 30 words to avoid such chagrin!