Fridge food for thought
By Sheryl-Lee Kerr
IT could well be the most frightening of all earth's inventions. They call it the smart fridge.
Right. And Victorian Premier Jeff Kennett is just an unappreciated, small furry animal.
According to Food Processing magazine, a new generation of so-called “smart” refrigerators should be available by 2001.
A must for any health-conscious household (a what?), the computer-enhanced fridge, programmed with personal codes, will withhold foodstuffs from you if it doesn't believe you should have them.
“It will detect the sort of things that you eat and the sort of things you enjoy eating, making very intelligent, very reasoned, very non-emotional decisions on our behalf,” Roland Burns, of the University of Plymouth, is quoted as saying.
I see. Reasoned? Non-emotional? I ask you, since when have these two words ever been linked with food?
Over the centuries, food has been used to substitute or counter every human emotion we own or want.
Feeling unloved? That's a caring chocolate moment. A bit sad? Sticky, gooey affectionate caramel can hug the inside of your mouth. Weak and powerless? Chillies and curry will have you roaring. Angry? Warm tapioca pud, just like Mum made it. You'll be curled up in the foetal position in no time. Naughty? Dark chocolate mousse with whipped cream and a bright-red, juicy cherry on top.
Thus, to be told these delicious decisions can stripped from us in the blink of a fridge light is truly the stuff of nightmares.
There you'll be, deciding it's time to tackle the reheated leftovers from last night's Kentucky Fried and, just as you shift that chook towards you, it happens:
“Sorry, ma'am, that is an unauthorised food preference. You'll have to wait until your body has consumed the excess kilojoules in your system from other illogically poor choices which were made before you acquired this superior refrigeration unit. You should be eligible
for this food item in February 2010. This door is now closing. Please step back before you lose your arm. Have a nice day.”
If I wanted to install an unfeeling, cold, impassive beast that answered back, I'd have put a Year 10 kid in charge of my kitchen years ago.
I do not need a fridge that would happily let me starve rather than allow me to select from the junk food reclining in its intestines.
I realise some people might thank a fridge for separating them from their chocolate-chip ice-cream. Clearly these people are insane and should not be allowed into fridge planning groups or any
organisation that deals with food preparation or storage.
I, for one, believe any forced separation between me and choc-chip ice-cream is grounds for mental cruelty.
As for so-called smart fridges? Bah. My house just wouldn't be big enough for the two of us.
And between us both, I know who would win that argument: the mad, half-starved woman holding the meat cleaver near a certain power cord.
© Sheryl-Lee Kerr & The Advertiser, 18 FEB 1997