I feel horrified when I see someone shake a bottle of soft drink before opening it. If it is someone I know, I scream and reach the culprit in great leaps and bounds to rescue the bottle, the way a mother would react when she sees her only child balancing himself on the wall of a 20 feet deep well. I mean, everyone knows that once the gas escapes, all that is left of a soft drink is a sugary syrup that is undrinkable. But in its effervescent state, a sip of it moistens the eyes and a glass of it zaps the fatigue away. And inspite of every evil thing that the world says about aerated drinks, I can’t stand to see it wasted.
I feel an almost similar (but not so strong) emotion when people waste the best part of a birthday cake on the each other’s face. I would have my fingers crossed for the corner piece since that has the maximum cream (or mousse or fudge icing or caramel or whatever goodness people put on their cakes) when someone decides to take it off and smear it on everyone around. indugetscooking.cucumbertown.com