Tuesday 28th April 2026
Blog Page 701

Counselling should do more

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My main emotional outlet at fifteen – in lieu of talking to my friends, family, or, er, anyone – was rock climbing. The routes at my local centre were set once a month, and I could hurl myself at a blunt rock face every Saturday for an hour without raising any eyebrows.

The hardest route took me weeks to complete, and left me with a sprained wrist. If I’d had more time, or resources, or energy, I probably could have completed the challenge without injuring myself in the process. It’s taken me years to recognise and apply these lessons when taking care of my mental health.

With this in mind, I had no intentions of using the university counselling service when I came to Oxford. My anxiety at this point had become a minor and manageable thing, which in any case felt too broad to be tackled over a fixed number of sessions.

However, halfway through Michaelmas I had a traumatic experience, and over the vacation I decided it might be worth exploring the university’s support services. Unlike my anxiety, this wasn’t a problem spanning years, but an obstacle, with a distinct aftermath, which I felt reasonably confident that I could overcome, and so I set about making an appointment. This process is where the counselling service excels: fire off an email, fill out a form, accept an appointment, fill out another form. The steps are manageable, and applying in the vacation gave me the advantage of a minimal wait time which leaves many waiting until the end of term, forcing others into private therapy.

The service itself is a more complex creature, and the phrase “lack of resources” is less than groundbreaking for anyone acquainted with mental health services, not only in Oxford but across the country. By my second session we were discussing my options for private therapy, in order to secure more long term support; I was discouraged from pursuing my options with the university EMDR service because of the lengthy waiting times.

It was also becoming readily apparent that I was not experiencing a simple, four session problem. I suspect very few people do.

I approached the system feeling like I had a hit roadblock, and was ready to emotionally invest in the service’s four sessions in order to overcome it.

In reality, it was more like being sat in front of a mountain, and trying to tunnel through it with a teaspoon.

With the sessions so carefully numbered, there is a pressure not to use them too quickly. There are no allowances for good behaviour, or a sliding scale for bigger problems.

If any part of me naively hope they might stretch to an extra appointment or two for something serious, it was rapidly disabused. This in itself is disheartening -the rigidity of the appointment structure can feel like it’s minimising the problems students are bringing so that we feel like we’re overreacting instead of like we’re not being accommodated.

To counter this, we spread my sessions over fortnight periods, unravelling my trauma in carefully controlled explosions before trying to pile the toothpaste back into the tube.

At no point did anyone ask if trying to overcome sexual assault in under four hours seemed challenging. Quite quickly the object of the sessions shifted from overcoming the assault to merely addressing it, and this adjustment brought its own tensions with it. Repeatedly bringing upsetting memories to the forefront of my mind had consistent repercussions outside of my allotted counselling time, and we frequently needed the full 50 minutes just to explore the problem fully, let alone consider possible coping mechanism or how I was going to get better.

Frankly, the system is brutal. A stop- watch is hovered above the recovery process, and it’s terrifying. There’s simply no recognition of the role that time plays in aiding recovery from mental health issues; the appointments are drawn out over weeks at a time with each session offering a sharp fifty minutes to explode and subsequently repackage whatever needs to be addressed.

When my third appointment ended in floods of tears (my own, not the counsellor’s), I was kindly offered to take some time for myself in whichever of the building’s toilets.

Alternatively, my counsellor gently suggested I could sit in the waiting room until I felt ready to head back to college.

The system has some clear and serious fault lines. The lengthy waiting times prevent many from even requesting an appointment, the number of sessions drastically limit their utility, and ultimately often serve to scratch the surface of existing conflicts without providing the time and resources needed to resolve them. These aren’t issues unique to Oxford, and these concerns are comprehensively echoed across university and NHS systems alike. Colleges can pick up some of the slack, and Jesus and Keble have hired onsite counselors for their students.

Despite my frustrations, both structural and personal, I will continue to champion therapy; to suggest it to friends who are struggling, and pursue it for my own needs. I would rather hack away at the mountain with a teaspoon than sit in front of it doing nothing at all. However, it seems like there should be a way to do it sustainably, and without risking further harm in the process. Asking the university to meaningfully invest in an obviously struggling system should not seem like an unreasonable request, but after 2 months of propping myself up against a struggling counselling service, any request is made to feel overwhelming.

So Far Gone – Ten years on

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A decade ago, Aubrey Graham was trying to break into the music industry. After 8 years playing Jimmy Brooks on a Canadian soap opera Degrassi, he finally succeeded in February 2009. Using his middle name Drake as his stage-name, he released an 18-track mix tape called So Far Gone. It was his third mix-tape, and it shot him to superstardom, causing a seismic change in the hip-hop landscape. Sounding more like a professional studio album than a collection of freestyles, it fundamentally altered the idea of what a mix tape could achieve. His songs blurred the lines between hip-hop and RnB, which have remained fuzzy ever since.

So Far Gone’s most lasting legacy, however, is that it introduced a level of vulnerability that had previously absent in the genre. Drake worried about alienation and unrequited love over wintery synths and moody beats. Say What’s Real began with the lines “Why do I feel so alone?/ Like everybody passing through the studio/ is in character as if he acting out a movie role.” These were honest and introspective lyrics; Drake was unafraid to look soft. Lil Wayne later said the reason he produced the unknown artist’s mix tape was because his music “was so honest … we as listeners we weren’t used to that yet.”

Drake recently marked the ten-year anniversary of So Far Gone by releasing it on all streaming platforms for the first time. This anniversary provides us with an opportunity to reflect on how hip-hop has changed during the last decade. Following Drake’s success, rappers are now embracing their vulnerability, shedding the aura of toxic braggadocio that defined the genre’s rise to prominence in the 1990s through the vehicle of “gangsta rap”.

During this period, the typical rapper embodied the battle-hardened survivor of gang warfare. He threatened violence if slighted and admitted no weakness. Where hip-hop artists in the 1990s did confront issues of mental health and vulnerability, they rapped about them with an unwavering indifference. Biggie Small’s voice in Suicidal Thoughts gives no hint of fear and he raps about wanting to go to hell rather than heaven because “I wanna tote guns and shoot dice” rather than “hanging with the goodie-goodies dressed in white.” Hip-hop artists needed to hide their insecurities. As Biggie Smalls’ mother said in a New York Times article in 1994, “he doesn’t want anyone to see that he’s not as tough as he thinks he is … he cried inside… but he doesn’t want anyone to see the vulnerable side to him.”

Drake didn’t just expose these vulnerabilities on So Far Gone, he built his hip-hop persona based on his sensitivity and introspection. In the decade since, Drake has emerged as world’s biggest music superstar, receiving 42 Grammy nominations and shattering just about every streaming and Billboard record in the process.

This success has inspired the other titans of hip-hop to embrace their emotional side. Jay-Z’s 2017 album 4:44 begins “Cry Jay-Z/ We know the pain is real/But you can’t heal what you never reveal.” He revealed that he goes to therapy, and in the press before its release he said the creative process involved the “killing of the ego, so we can have this conversation in a place of vulnerability and honesty.” Lil Wayne finally opened up in 2016 about a time he attempted suicide. Kendrick Lamar dedicated a whole song on DAMN. to revealing his deepest fears. J. Cole rapped on Lost Ones from his Cole World project, “I ain’t too proud to tell you that I cry sometimes.” The industry’s biggest rappers have begun to engage in a refreshing dialogue about toxic masculinity: the message to other men is that it is okay to have fears and to be vulnerable.

The last few years have seen this frank discussion on vulnerability in hip-hop extended to issues of mental health, which were rarely addressed in hip-hop before. Kid Cudi is usually cited as instigating this change by revealing that he suffered with depression in a Facebook post on 5th October 2016, when he admitted himself into rehab. He wrote “my anxiety and depression have ruled my life for as long as I can remember and I never leave the house because of it.”  

Following his lead, Kendrick Lamar discussed his experiences with depression on the song u from the album To Pimp A Butterfly. Kanye West revealed that he too suffered from mental health issues with his most recent album, ye. The message “I hate being bi-polar, its awesome” was scrawled onto the album’s artwork. In 2017, Logic wrote a song called1-800-273-8255 – the National Suicide Prevention Lifeline in America – directly addressing the issue of suicide and the help one can receive if they feel suicidal.

Meanwhile a new generation of hip-hop artists have emerged who put mental health issues and vulnerability as their central subject. “SoundCloud rappers” like Lil Peep, Lil Uzi Vert and XXXtacion, so called because of their reliance on the platform to gain popularity, have created extraordinarily personal music about their depression and suicidal urges.

Artists have a profound influence shaping society through the messages they share in their music. They are role models to millions of impressionable young fans. This is why it is so important that the last ten years have seen rappers drop their swaggering and invulnerable facades. A new generation of hip-hop fans will grow up hearing it is okay to feel sad sometimes. People suffering mental health issues will realise that they are not alone. Both artist Travis Scott and comedian Pete Davidson have publicly said that Kid Cudi saved their lives by creating music that spoke frankly about mental health issues, as it led them to seek help. After Logic performed 1-800-273-8255 at the VMA’s, calls to the US Suicide Prevention Hotline increased by 50%.

Hip hop has finally embraced vulnerability. We must be thankful to Drake that the toxic braggadocio that plagued the genre ten years ago is So Far Gone.

Bird Box: a victim of its own platform?

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Bird Box is an exciting watch. In an apocalyptic world where an invisible force causes people to commit suicide by bombarding them with visions of the most dismal things they can imagine, preying upon their saddest memories, the only way to survive is to remain blindfolded.

We see Malorie (Sandra Bullock) and how she survives in the first few months after the epidemic of mass suicides—as well as five years down the line, where she must embark on a perilous journey down a river with two young children, whom she calls merely “Girl” and “Boy”. The viewing is filled with tension, jump-scares and moments of shock-horror.

We are motivated to keep watching by the questions set up by the plot: What has happened in the intervening five years? Why is it that people who are already mentally ill are affected differently? What is the significance of the birds Malorie carries with her in a box?

Questions also arise about what sort of message the film is trying to convey. Some scenes hint at a commentary on the state of our civilisation: one character says the suicides are caused by demons who have come to eradicate the species, claiming that “humans have been judged and been found wanting”. Some reviewers have suggested that the film is asking questions about the meaning of living: is it worth being alive if you’re only surviving? This may be the reason for Malorie not giving the children names: it could make them too emotionally attached to each other, lulling them into a false sense of domestic safety. However, these points of introspection are too lightly touched upon to make any meaningful impact on the viewer.

The film feels somehow unfinished. The interesting concept is not explored to its full potential; it feels more like an extended episode of a TV show rather than a movie. I wonder whether this is the fate of Netflix films: made for streaming, they are not held to the same standards as films released in cinemas.

Watching something on Netflix, we keep one eye on the screen and one eye on our phones; we talk over it to our friends; we pause it to get a drink, or to go to sleep. Watching a film on a computer screen rather than in a cinema immediately robs it of a certain atmospheric quality.

Nevertheless, the fact that Bird Box was made for Netflix has allowed it to reach a very wide audience in a short time. The immediacy of Netflix, the fact that millions of people around the world can stream at the same time, means that Netflix originals can very rapidly make an impact on popular culture. It helps that Bird Box has scenes that are extremely exploitable as memes or reaction images (many memes appeared on Twitter within the first few days of its release that there was speculation that Netflix was making the memes themselves and spreading them via fake accounts).

Whether it’s worthy of the attention or not, once a Netflix original has made this impression on popular culture, more and more people will be motivated to watch it, and so its popularity grows.

Overall, Bird Box is a gripping film with a thought-provoking premise, featuring a convincing performance from Sandra Bullock. However, I was left feeling slightly unsatisfied. It is ironic that Netflix, the reason for the film’s rapid popularity, might also be the reason why it’s not as memorable a film as it could have been.

Teenage boys arrested over neo-Nazi graffiti in Headington

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Police have arrested two teenage boys in connection with neo-Nazi graffiti which appeared in Headington on Saturday.

The graffiti featured swastikas and references to Friday’s far-right terrorist attack in New Zealand, in which a 28 year-old man gunned down 50 worshippers at two Christchurch mosques.

Councillor Tom Hayes responded to the arrests on Twitter, stating: “Excellent and speedy response by @TVP_Oxford to the daubing of hateful images on a wall.

“Reassuring (to an extent) that organised Far Right extremism is not behind the incident. Oxford will go on being watchful for such extremism. Deeply worrying that children would do this.”

The suspects, aged 14 and 15, have been referred to the Youth Justice Service.

Police reported that the 14 year-old “was also interviewed about a similar incident in Headington in November.”

Last November, Councillor Shaista Aziz discovered two swastikas painted on the wall of a Headington community centre. Police have not confirmed whether this is the incident in question.

Councillor Aziz said at the time: “Absolutely disgusted to see Nazi signs sprayed on a wall and building in Oxford this morning on route to dropping my nieces off at school. This is how hate is normalised.”

Cambridge Labour to follow OULC in disaffiliating from Labour Students

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Cambridge University Labour Club (CULC) has voted “overwhelmingly” to disaffiliate from Labour Students, the national body which exists to link university Labour clubs to the national party.

The move followed a similar decision by Oxford University Labour Club last month, which followed a speech in which Labour Students was described as “irredeemable”.

Labour Students has been embroiled in controversy over accusations of vote-rigging in last month’s national elections, the full results of which have yet to be released.

A statement from CULC described the elections as “deeply undemocratic” and called for a new organisation to replace Labour Students.

The club stated: “The student membership of the Labour Party has reached the end of its tether with Labour Students.

“For over a decade now our club is one of the few to have remained steadfastly affiliated. It is now, regrettably, all too clear to us that participation is worth nothing when democratic engagement can do nothing.

“At our Termly General Meeting last week our membership resolved overwhelmingly to rescind affiliation, on the grounds that the elections of the incoming national chair and 2019-20 committee were deeply undemocratic.

“We stand shoulder to shoulder with clubs across the country who have attested to the bad faith cronyism of these ballots, and especially to the corrupt manner in which eligibility rules were applied.

“In a movement of 20,000 Labour students, only 500 were permitted to have any say. It is blatant that attempts were made to limit the participation of members from the political mainstream of the party, in order to artificially assure the dominance of a deeply unpopular political minority.

“The consequences of this ‘e-gerrymandering’ are evident in the organisation’s support for policies diametrically opposed to the actual politics of Labour’s student membership – e.g. on questions such as tuition fees.

“We now call on those Labour clubs who remain affiliated to leave, and in doing so extend their solidarity to clubs — particularly those in the North of England and Scotland — who have, for years, been systematically disenfranchised by the national organisation.

“Our party must pass the mantle of ‘Labour Students’ on to an organisation that can finally, genuinely represent Labour students. ​This will remain the policy of our club unless and until we democratically resolve otherwise.”

A number of other clubs have chosen to disaffiliate from Labour Students in the wake of the scandal, including Queen Mary, Southampton, Aberystwyth, Royal Holloway, Kent, Imperial College London, Nottingham Trent, and Sussex.

OULC and Labour Students have been contacted for comment.

Catz sign stolen in alleged “vengeance” for victory in the women’s football cuppers final

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Cherwell understands that a sign belonging to St. Catherine’s College has been stolen, allegedly as a reprisal for the college’s football defeat over the combined Keble/Hertford team in February’s women’s cuppers football final.

Although there is no confirmation from the thieves, who remain unidentified, it is widely believed that the sign was stolen in order to “avenge the loss in cuppers”.

One poster on Oxfess, who claimed to speak on behalf of “all of St. Catherine’s college”, told the thieves: “If you have a moral bone in your body, may we suggest you bring back the sign to its original location.”

They alleged that the college may have to “pay for a replacement” and hinted at further conflict: “threatening violence over a wooden sign to those trying to get it back is not bravery, it’s stupidity and cowardice.”

Since this was posted by the website, the signpost, which had been taken to Hertford’s JCR, has now been returned by two members of the college’s student executive committee.

In a Facebook post updating Hertford students on the situation, they stated: “Please don’t steal massive signs, and if you desperately feel the need, please return them.” They added that the sign was “so heavy” that they were helped to carry it by some “associate professors”.

The signpost in question gives directions to the college’s JCR, the Library, and the Bernard Sunley Building.

The St Catherine’s team beat the combined Hertford/Keble team (known as ‘Hertble’) in the final, held at Iffley on 15 February. The final score was 4-1.

The captain of the Hertford team, Eleanor Frew, told Cherwell:
“Hertble don’t take any responsibility for stealing this sign and would appreciate any future accusations to come in person rather than via a Cherwell article or oxfess.

Perhaps now it has been returned, we can get back to celebrating women’s sport instead of worrying about a sign.”

The St Catherine’s captain declined to make a statement.

Life at an Oxford PPH – communal or claustrophobic?

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‘Yeah but it’s not a real college.’ Sound familiar? For us PPH dwellers it definitely does. Whether it’s a snobbish remark or, as is the case most often, a self-deprecating joke, the not particularly noticeable difference between a college and a permanent private hall is something students at PPHs are very aware of. ‘Oh so where is it?’ ‘Is it very religious?’ ‘I can’t believe you have so few people in your year.’ ‘That doesn’t look like a college.’… You get the gist.

In most respects, PPHs are almost indistinguishable from colleges. They have pets and libraries and quad(s), and all kinds of undergrads, from the blues athlete, to the rower, to the union hack. One important distinction is that PPHs tend to have less money than colleges, which sometimes limits the range of services they can offer to their students. Aside from that, their lack of famous alumni, and the fact that most students were pooled there from the colleges they’d applied to, I would say that the student experience is very similar to that in the average college. A lot of us live on site, we have meals in our hall, drinks in our bar, formals, bops, and JCR meetings.

What is definitely a significant difference is that students in PPHs live as part of a much smaller student community. I’ve heard many people refer to that community as a family, and however cliché that may sound, I think it comes very close to the reality. This is not to say that we all get along all the time. Like in every family, there are dramatic fallings out and people who no longer speak to each other. There are also the family gossips, who somehow seem to be aware of all the goings on, and it’s common for people to know about each other’s romantic dalliances and friendship group dramas. On the other hand, we also have the parent-like figures that you turn to for advice, and who will look after you when you’ve had one VK too many. Nobody’s anonymous: you can sit anywhere in the dining hall and the people next to you will know your name, and usually a lot more. Even though we sometimes pretend not to, we do all know each other, sometimes a little too well. Our JCRs are our living rooms, where we go to procrastinate, and someone’s always around for a cup of tea and a quick chat – or alternatively an hours-long darts game. The small population makes inter-year and inter-subject friendships the norm and being the only student in your year to study a certain subject is not unheard of. Sometimes the atmosphere does get stifling, and small communities, just like large ones, aren’t suited to everyone. I don’t think it’s necessarily a better nor a worse experience, simply a different one.

It can be easy to integrate almost entirely in this small bubble, to eat every meal there and always work in the library, to the extent that the wider university feels very separate. On the other hand, it is also very possible to do the opposite, especially since many of us go to different colleges for tutorials, and if you don’t live on site you may have no reason to come in at all. I find that most people fall somewhere in between, taking an active part in college (PPH) life, but also being involved in university-wide societies, of which PPH students make up sometimes a surprisingly large proportion. The small nature of PPHs encourages this, mostly due to the limited opportunities they offer to meet new people, which we all enjoy from time to time. Another factor that pushes PPH students to look out of their small communities is a lack of our own sports teams, which means that the athletes among us must look outwards into the wider university to participate. The PPH’s own library may contain all a certain subject needs, and nothing for another, which means that depending on what you are studying, you might spend all your time there, or you may be forced to leave for the Bod, or RadCam, in both of which large numbers of PPH students can normally be found, perhaps also to enjoy the typically grand architecture their own buildings lack. 

However, I for one always enjoy eventually returning to my own modest home, with no gargoyles and only one quad but plenty of familiar faces. To have a much smaller, much more personal community within the large and sometimes intimidating one of the university reassures me that if I want, I don’t have to be around strangers. I can go somewhere where everyone knows my name, who my friends are – and the embarrassing thing I did last Thursday night.

Surviving the Drama Scene

The student theatre scene in Oxford is remarkably vibrant. There are multiple venues, production companies, and student drama societies operating at once. In this context, the pace at which productions are put on, and the amount of productions that happen within a term, is intense, and it is difficult for even the most dedicated theatre fan to keep track of everything on.

Obviously, the merit of this is that a wide range of student theatre productions are able to share the limelight. Oxford student theatre ranges from comedy to serious drama, from musicals to horror. Productions can come from both original student writing, or be reinterpretations of classic works. They can take place in a selection of venues ranging from the Oxford playhouse to a college garden.

The production quality of student theatre is incredibly high, with students handling every part of the production. Made in Dagenham, a musical at the Oxford Playhouse in 5th week, has a company of fifty-five people. Student theatre’s impact is not limited to the student population, and because Oxford doesn’t offer a dedicated drama degree, the cross section of the student population that are involved in theatre is diverse and impressive, unrestricted to a certain ‘type’ of person, degree subject or college.

Yet in spite of this, student theatre does not fully emulate all aspects of professional theatre. The most obvious difficulty for student theatre, is through monetary considerations. Every production is limited by a strict budget however student theatre has to navigate this problem on a much smaller scale.

Paying for the rights to works not yet in the public domain, is an astronomical expense – a clear and immediate obstacle to the ambitions and creativity of those who may want to adapt a well-known play in their own style. Likewise, large scale productions that need more expensive sets and costumes may be daunting to approach from the point of view of a student production company that desperately needs a play to break even.

This is not to say that student productions have not done an excellent job at navigating these issues. The Oxford University Drama Society’s New Writing Festival, for example, is an annual competition that aims to get the best student-writing to the stage. Do a quick Facebook search of ‘OUDS New Writing Festival 2019’ reveals four productions currently or recently put on as part of the festival around Oxford – Leap of Faith, Cutting Room, and Plagued are all showing at the Burton Taylor Studio in 6th week.

However, student theatre’s pace and range does come with other issues. The aims of marketing in student theatre revolve solely around selling out a run of a show. There is little thought put into the longevity of a show, or what its future might be after that run. Selling out a theatre in Oxford alongside doing a full-time degree is no small achievement by any means, but it does mean shows that are very popular and garner a lot of hype at the time of showing may not be able to translate the popularity into long term success or, indeed, anything other than a good week on stage.

When asked about the difficulties of navigating student theatre, Jake Rich, who has worked on around twelve student productions in Oxford, said: “In general, with student theatre you are practising the professional production of a show. This means you get it all ready, and do about 3-5 performances, which in the professional world be considered preview performances and then, instead of doing weeks and weeks of shows like you would in the professional world, you stop.

“This is a shame because really good stuff doesn’t live very long at all.
Sometimes you can keep something alive, especially new writing, by
taking it to the fringe or perhaps a national or international tour. In rare cases, for example recent Oxford new writing projects Lights over Tesco car park and Nice Guy, a piece of new writing might really take off and become a published play.”

It is not necessarily the popularity or impact of a show during its first run that determines whether it will last beyond that run. Shows like Khameleon Productions’ Medea, which attracted plenty of attention and hype when put on last Trinity, can remain a memorable one-off. On the other hand, shows that attracted decent but not comparable hype during their initial run, like OUDS New Writing and Worcester Productions’ The C Bomb, which ran around this time last year, have managed to sustain that hype with a successful place at the Fringe and are now taking it to London.

The fast-paced environment of Oxford student theatre means that what survives and what fades out of memory is not determined by the money put into a run, or even necessarily the popularity of that first production. Rather, it is the initiative of those involved, combined with the quality of the writing and its potential for flexibility, that determines the longevity of a student theatre show.

Celebrity Chefs

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I spend a lot of time on social media, and nowadays, I see food everywhere. As everyone’s favourite show, America’s Next Top Model teaches us, the way to make it in the celebrity sphere (of any kind) today, is to create a ‘brand’ out of yourself. And what better way to brand yourself than to focus on an aspect of life everyone on earth has some sort of relationship with: food. We all know that social media is basically just advertisements without the conspicuousness of a billboard on the side of the road. But the ventures of celebrities into the culinary industry for their brands is an especially interesting move.

Dieting is not a new trend, of course, but now that we finally live in a post-Nothing Tastes as Good as Skinny Feels world, the spotlight over dieting has seemingly been stolen, at least for now, by healthy eating. This can often go way too far: there’s something distasteful about Gigi Hadid being forced to eat a burger every time she’s on a late-night talk show, and the Victoria’s Secret ‘Angels’ promote the New York ‘Dogpound’ Gym as though they’re legally contracted to. Even on a lower scale, how many celebrities have you heard say: ‘I’ve always had a passion for baking, ever since I was a child’, release a cookbook, then seemingly forget that they’ve ever read a recipe in their life once the initial profits have died down? Healthy eating is the latest trend – but, as we can see from the fashion industry, trends are seasonal, and especially on social media, they die quickly. We used to have trends which defined a decade, we now get bored of a meme after only a few days… So, what happens when the trend of healthy eating dies down? Will every celebrity who has tried to enter the culinary world simply retreat and acknowledge that the fad is over? I like the shift of celebrities turning into chefs. I think it’s fun to watch them learn to cook – Karlie Kloss is the first person who comes to mind here: Brand Ambassador for Adidas, her youtube channel Klossy features two cooking-focused playlists: ‘Learning to Cook’ and ‘#KlossyKitchen,’ and the 17-videos included in these two playlists promote healthy eating from the outset. Titles such as ‘A Healthy Take on Mom’s Pumpkin Loaf’ and ‘What I eat after long runs’ are clearly there to maintain the image of Kloss which her fitness-focused take on modeling and ‘strong women’ approach to business have built up over the years. There’s so much good that can come from this trend: Kloss credits professional chefs, her sweet potato pie made with the help of Lena Elkousy, co-founder of the Conscious Food Organisa-
tion Present Plate, and she is giving people who may not have access to cooking classes the chance to improve their diet for free. However, not every celebrity is crediting their recipes, or promoting a healthy lifestyle.

The issue is that in a world where advertisement is hidden under the guise of ‘giving back to the fans’ through content, the question on whether celebrities are beginning to go too far is becoming more and more pressing. At the end of the day, celebrities-as-chefs is an online occurrence. It’s unlikely that just as every model goes into acting, every celebrity is now going to start releasing cookbooks and reality tv cooking competitions. But it is likely that food and healthy eating is going to continue becoming a more and more ‘done’ thing in the promotion of personal brands. The thing to decide is whether such blatant advertisement needs to be announced, or whether it should simply be accepted as part-and-parcel of the digital world we live in.

Recipe : Deconstructed Mississippi Mud Pie

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Ingredients

For the Chocolate brownie

  • 110g Butter
  • 140g Dark chocolate
  • 2 Medium eggs
  • 140g Caster sugar
  • 30g Plain flour
  • 100g White chocolate, roughly chopped

For the Chocolate custard

  • 100g Dark chocolate
  • 290ml Whole milk
  • 3 Egg yolks
  • 60g Caster sugar
  • 15g Plain flour
  • 1 tbsp Cocoa powder
  • 20g Cornflour
  • 160ml Double cream

For the Chocolate crumble

  • 100g Plain flour, plus extra for dusting
  • 150g Unsalted butter
  • 55g Cocoa powder
  • 40g Caster sugar
  • 5g Sea salt

For the Chantilly cream

  • 300ml Double cream
  • 1 tsp Vanilla bean paste

For the Coulis

  • 150g Raspberries
  • 100g Caster sugar

To Decorate

  • 50g White chocolate
  • 100g Dark chocolate
  • 5 Fresh raspberries
  • A few sprigs of fresh mint

Method

  1. Pre-heat the oven to 180˚C. Grease and line a 15×15 cm loose tin with butter and baking paper.
  2. To make the brownies put the butter and chocolate into a bowl over a pan of simmering water and leave to melt.
  3. Take another bowl and whisk the eggs until pale and fluffy with an electric whisk. Add the sugar and continue to whisk until it leaves a trail when the whisk is taken out.
  4. Fold the chocolate into the eggs, sieve in the flour and add the white chocolate. Fold everything again until combined.
  5. Pour the mixture into the lined tin and bake for around 20 minutes until a crust has formed on top and it feel slightly firm. Set aside to cool.
  6. Now make the chocolate filling. Put the chocolate into a heat-proof bowl and melt over a pan of simmering water. Then put the milk into a pan and heat until just boiling.
  7. In another bowl whisk the egg yolks, sugar, plain flour, cocoa powder and cornflour until smooth. Pour in the milk whilst whisking until smooth. Pour the mixture back into the pan and cook gently, whilst whisking, until just starting to thicken. Take off the heat, stir in the melted chocolate and then leave in the fridge to cool completely.
  8. Take the filling out of the fridge and whisk to break up. In another bowl whisk the double cream to soft peaks. Fold the cream into the chocolate mix and then pour this into a pipping bag. Put this into the fridge to chill for 2 hours.
  9. Now make the chocolate crumble. Put all the ingredients into a bowl and mix until a smooth dough forms. Roll this out on a lightly floured surface to make a thin sheet. Put this onto a baking tray lined with greaseproof paper and bake in the oven for 10 minutes. Take out of the oven and crumble with your fingers to make a crumble/crumb-like texture. Then put it back into the oven to bake for another 10 minutes until crisp. Set to one side to cool.
  10. Next whip up the double cream and vanilla into soft peaks (when it just holds its shape). Spoon this into a pipping bag with a round nozzle and leave in the fridge to chill until needed.
  11. Then make the chocolate shards. Put the white and dark chocolates into separate heatproof bowls over pans of gently simmering water. When melted transfer the white chocolate to a piping bag with a small, round nozzle. Take a sheet of baking paper or acetate and drizzle the white chocolate in a squiggle pattern over it. Leave to set completely at room temperature.
  12. When set, take the dark chocolate and spread over the white chocolate in a thin layer, making it smooth with a palette knife. Leave to set.
  13. Finally make the raspberry coulis. Put the raspberries and sugar into a pan and heat gently until the raspberries mush and gently simmer.
  14. Pour the mixture into a sieve and press through with the back of a spoon to get the juice and pulp but to remove the seeds. Pour this into a pipping bottle with a small, round nozzle and leave in the fridge until needed.
  15. When ready to plate up begin by cutting 3 small circles out of the brownie. Place these in a semi-circle around the edge of the plate. Take the chocolate custard and pipe blobs of it around the brownies. Then take the fresh raspberries and arrange them in a crescent around the other elements. Then take the cream and fill in the gaps. Then sprinkle the crumble in the gaps to make a crescent shape and then break the chocolate sheet into shards and place them around the plate. Take the coulis and pipe spots of it around the plate, and then put the rest into a jug to serve with the dessert. Garnish with the fresh mint and serve!

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