Last year I read somewhere that eating out is environmentally friendlier than cooking yourself. I felt vindicated: No longer a lazy cow for refusing to go anywhere near the stove. No, I was just being a responsible citizen of Mother Nature.

While Japanese food has somehow managed to establish itself as being somewhat upscale in our part of the world, there's no such pretence with Chinese. Trust Grupo Tragaluz to change that perception.

I have an ‘aggressively sexy' (she takes issue with the word slutty) Italian friend who, for as long as I've known her, has been husband hunting. Everybody else's, that is. And that's how I have it with dinner parties: I love them, but at other people's houses.

Mention the word "value" and I'm haunted by traumatic flashbacks of bargain basement all-inclusive package holidays. It's an outdated impression, of course, as good hotel dining has become easier on the wallet as well as better quality.

Undue senior citizen entitlement can really get me up in arms. So I'm a great fan of the pay-your-age initiative by Ada Parellada's homely classic.

Like the waft of saturated fats coming out of every KFC, most restaurant chains usually have some distinguishing feature common to all its establishments. We should know. In this fair city of chains.