I think the secret is everything in moderation. One of the problems with books is unless you write something different, there is no reason for anyone to buy your book. Paul Matthews admitted that to an old friend at a Wilton BPCR shoot one day. He noticed that Paul had contradicted many of the things he had said in the past. When he questioned/busted Paul's chops about this, his reply was something to the effect of "If you want to sell more books, you need to say something different.".
Remember when eggs were bad for you? Then red meat became the poison of the day. Now it is GMO's which I tend to believe are not good. But you don't see a lot of carping about all the chemicals in the processed food these days. My cousin is one of 3 brothers. As a kid, he lived in McDonalds. His folks would put McD's coupons in his Christmas stocking. He pretty much lived on McD from the time he was old enough to walk to the one near his house. He ended up with testicular cancer in his 20's. Now, in his 50's he's been battling various types of cancer. His thyroid has been removed and the poor guy goes to NYC for tests every 6 months. They cannot treat him, and although it does not seem to be moving fast, it will eventually kill him. Neither of his two brothers have had any type of cancer. Nor did they live at McDs as kids. I'm convinced that all those years of eating that rubbish caused his cancers.
I still remember the day that I found out that Twinkies had zero food content and they have an infinite shelf life. I'm proud to say I've never eaten a Twinkie.
For me, cutting out salt was part of a getting back in shape thing and it just stuck. It's like black coffee. I stopped using cream to cut out fat intake and once one develops a taste for black coffee, it's hard to drink it any other way. And I worked in countries where the coffee is like tar and they put more sugar in the coffee than coffee. I remember ordering coffee without sugar in a shop in Venezuela that was packed with people going to work every day. I'd order a large, which was a normal sized cup. The locals all drank those tiny shot glass sized cups. Then I'd say no sugar and the place would go silent like when the bad guy comes thru the saloon doors. They would all look at me like I was crazy. It was kinda fun. They didn't even call it a large. They called it cafe Norte Americano. That's the polite phrase for Gringo.
