There is an Italian word, sprezzatura that means a certain studied, highly choreographed carelessness. It was first defined, in Baldassare Castiglione's The Book of the Courtier, as "a certain nonchalance, so as to conceal all art and make whatever one does or says appear to be without effort and almost without any thought about it." It is, to my mind, bullshit. But this kind of food styling so beloved by Instagram is the absolute nailed-down incarnation of sprezzatura. The self-consciously rumpled linen cloth, the clenchingly exact amount of "spilt" cheese, the artfully arranged mess—it literally screams of conscious, deliberate care to appear careless. Scopare questa, huh?A photo posted by cynthia (@tworedbowls) on Oct 19, 2016 at 11:56am PDT
As the physiotherapist said to the cleaner, while walking into the large group bath after the Rugby League Quarter Final: "Ah, ball soup!"A photo posted by Muay (@mee_bakingtime) on Nov 17, 2016 at 11:53pm PST
If cocaine is God's way of telling you that you've got too much money, then I'm pretty sure that thinly slice grapes are all hell's way of telling you that you've got too much time on your hands. Way too much. Please don't think that my judgement on this is in any way clouded by the fact that at 5.35 this morning, I was stuffing a handful of raisins into my mouth, in the dark, wearing a pair of thermal tights. I'm just here to lay down some science facts.A photo posted by Carolin Strothe (@frauherzblut) on Nov 18, 2016 at 12:58am PST
When I turned 30, my brother-in-law—a ceramicist—presented me with my very own giant blue glazed bowl, fashioned by his own fair, hairy hands. "Congratulations! You're old enough to have your own giant blue bowl," he said, endearingly. So, believe me when I say that I appreciate sea-hued ceramics as much as the next man. But if this "dish" comprises an actual "meal," then I'm a rubber fucking duck.A photo posted by Gastro Art (@gastroart) on Nov 18, 2016 at 2:06am PST
Dandelion & orange blossom Martinez for tonight's @pollen_room shift at @vesperbkk
A photo posted by Travelling Bartenders (@travellingbartenders) on Nov 18, 2016 at 4:45am PST
The only war memorial that may possibly be worth the name is one that we have to build anew every day. Only through the daily pain, grit, labour, and conscious effort of daily construction might we, just possibly, remember that our war memorials are to remind us to try for peace, at all times and in any way possible. Still, cake's nice innit?A photo posted by Nigella (@nigellalawson) on Nov 13, 2016 at 5:04am PST
Ever since my face became little more than a cavity wall in the great palace of interhuman bacterial flow we call life, I have been eating chilies like grapes. My cold hasn't got any better but at least I know my heart is still beating. I can feel it. Right here blow my Vicks Vapour Rub.A photo posted by Rukmini Iyer (@missminifer) on Nov 18, 2016 at 4:41am PST
A photo posted by Marta Parra (@mamadisenadora) on Nov 18, 2016 at 4:46am PST
You just know that at least one of those leaves was recently used by either a dog, a squirrel, or a cat as a handy wiping surface. Cosy.A photo posted by ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Аiza (@aizamagic) on Nov 18, 2016 at 2:01am PST
I honestly can't tell you why, but this photo has been making me laugh, on and off, for at least seven minutes. Thank god.A photo posted by Valeria Zielinski (@valefitnessuy) on Nov 18, 2016 at 4:46am PST