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Word: larded (lookup in dictionary) (lookup stats)
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...weight puts the blame squarely on America's huge, well-oiled, heavily advertised food industry. There may be salad bars at the local fast-food joints, but to find them customers have to run a gauntlet of starchy, beefy delights and breathe air perfumed with the scent of rendered lard. According to the Agriculture Department, the food and restaurant industries spend $36 billion a year on advertisements designed to entice hungry people to forgo fresh fruit and sliced vegetables for Ring Dings and Happy Meals. The average child, says psychologist Kelly Brownell, head of the Yale University Center for Eating...

Author: /time Magazine | Title: Fat Times What health craze? | 1/16/1995 | See Source »

...would I subject myself to such indigestion of the bowels and brain? Is it the strange allure of Peking ravs soaked in lard...

Author: By Roy Astrachnan, | Title: In Search of the Late Night Snack | 5/25/1994 | See Source »

Other local delicacies: It's all terrible for you--it's wonderful. We eat scrapple all the time. It's made from pig scraps, pork broth, corn meal and lard. You slice it up and then you fry it on both sides. I crave it along with my grandmother's slippery chicken and dumplings...

Author: By A. JOY Mcgrath, | Title: FM Profiles | 10/14/1993 | See Source »

...Jimmie Durham -- parodic weapons made out of rusty gun parts, salvaged wood, plastic pipe -- deal with race and cultural resistance, but do so by imaginative, not merely rhetorical, means. Even Janine Antoni's sculptures -- a big cube of chocolate gnawed by the artist and a fairly repulsive mound of lard chewed up by her, flanked by a vitrine or mock reliquary displaying chocolate cases and lipsticks made from the residue of both (link between bulimia and beauty cult, get it?) -- have a sort of Monty Pythonish looniness that makes them almost endearing as traces of obsessive effort...

Author: /time Magazine | Title: Art: The Whitney Biennial: A Fiesta of Whining | 3/22/1993 | See Source »

Well, The Crimson found this lard idea a little hard to swallow, and my mom suggested that maybe when I came home for Thanksgiving she'd invite our neighbor, the psychiatrist, over for dinner. I got the hint, so I gave up on the idea...

Author: By Jon A. Bresman, | Title: The Collective Editorial of Rice | 2/20/1993 | See Source »

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