O.K., the decision has been made. After great consideration I am embarking on a campaign to return cooking to the early 1950s, when after the shortages of the war everyone was delighted that Butter, cream, good meat and wines were again available - and when especially from France came the finest and best period of cooking, reigned over by the sainted Elizabeth David. Back, even, to the great days of Alexandre Dumas. Away with these tiny meals on enormous plates - vegetables disguised as twigs and pieces of string and cooked for microseconds, everyone terrified at the idea of a small spoonful of cream. Back to the good old days of rich food drenched in cream and brandy, potatoes cooked in half-pounds of butter, plates overflowing with food dripping with rich sauces. Join me - to hell with nouveau cuisine and long long lists of things on packets which are allegedly bad for you. Onward and upward to the very heights of deliciousness; drink cabbage water if you must, revel in the delights of undercooked brussels sprouts. Life is too short to temper chocolate.