CookJosh
Janet

Janet

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I love food. Even as I clatter away at the keyboard, I am munching on a light snack in anticipation of the sirloin burgers for later. Something about the millions of movements and interactions of ribosomes, proteins, neurons, and other small but vital molecular machines and molecules requires in me an amount of fuel that is belied by my never increasing weight. Some of my friends who are similarly afflicted blame a small fat kid hidden inside them. The intricacies of this whole process are only slightly understood by science, and even less so by myself. I do know that these small scale activities create a requirement for certain sources of energy, and that all of these things combine to give me a certain taste in food, among much else they do.

I must explain two things now. First, I grew up in a house with a microbiologist mother, a microbiologist brother, a brother who excelled in B.S. and I don’t mean the degree, and a father with pretty much a photographic memory. So the above paragraph is the product of a mixture of all these things. In other words when I say I “know” something it is heavily influence