Word: excess
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This brings us to another supermarket paradox: moist raw meat means dry, tasteless steak. Fresh is certainly not best. Beef has to be hung to lose excess water, develop complex flavor, and break down tough fibers, but for how long? Experts disagree, sometimes violently. With all due respect to Zaldúa, two weeks is not enough for full-on flavor. Nor does youth yield tenderness. After encountering a steak at Etxebarri in Axpe from an old retired dairy cow as tender as a veal calf and infinitely more flavorful, I was also ready to challenge the received wisdom that...
...began to publish ultra-abridged versions of classics like “Anna Karenina,” shortening them to about half their original size and advertising them as great books “in half the time.” The goal is to trim away all excess verbiage, jettison any pointless asides, and streamline prose so that it follows a more straightforward narrative. With a few judicious strikeouts, Thackeray can become Hemingway...
...first word to cross your mind. Porsches and private jets, Cristal and cocaine, the entertainment industry has been the embodiment of American overconsumption, and its chief sales agent to the rest of the country. Recycling? That was for plot lines. But side-by-side with that image of excess is Hollywood the dyed-blue liberal, the city that gave Al Gore an Oscar before he won that Nobel, where solar panels and Priuses are the new must-have toys, and someone actually thought global warming would make for a good action movie...
Those who remember Duran Duran usually remember the hair, frosted to 1980s-excess perfection. Or maybe the videos, replete with scantily-clad, poorly-fed European models. Of course, there were also the hits: “Hungry Like the Wolf,” “Girls on Film,” and “Rio.” For the last decade, however, most conversational references made to Duran Duran have been ironic and anachronistic. The band’s been branded as a Live-Aid relic, the forgotten child of the first MTV audience. Those mantles...
Ever since I was informed by my grandmother how Isadora Duncan died—in a fit of gesticular excess, she tossed her scarf under the wheel axle of her car—I have been simultaneously attracted and repulsed by scarves. How long should they be? What do you pair them with? How do you wear them without dying? The last time I wore a scarf was in seventh grade after a particularly rough, love-lorn year. A boyfriend (who shall remain nameless) never held the door for me, and I was concerned that our romance never would blossom...