The Restaurant That Burns Off Calories? I’d rather burn down the restaurant

Fred Sirieix believed his new program is a ‘must-watch’ if you ‘value your health’. As someone who has had an eating disorder, I beg to differ

Yesterday, Fred Sirieix – of First Dates fame – tweeted that his new program The Restaurant That Burns Off Calories was a “must-watch” if you “value your health”. As someone who has had an eating disorder, I beg to differ.

So too does pioneer of food joy, Ruby Tandoh, who took to Twitter to criticise the show’s premise – which sees fitness fanatics burn off the calories consumed by diners – as “appalling”. Indeed, the concept struck me essentially as a group exercise bulimia. The running machines acting as a replacement for a post-dinner purge. In response, Sirieix asked Tandoh to watch before giving her opinion. Having done just that, I can safely say Tandoh’s scepticism was bang on. If you have ever found yourself trapped in the web of guilt and shame so often associated with food, avoid this show at all costs.

The programme tested the theory that diners consume less when they are aware of the calorie content, but in a particularly unpleasant way. In one shocking stunt diners who ordered dessert were told how long they would have to spend on a rowing machine to burn it off. Apart from one poor woman shamed out of her cheesecake in favour of “ice and water”, the experiment had dismal results. The vast majority stuck to their guns – and I applaud them. As someone with a history of disordered eating, I would have run a mile.

At the end of the program, when diners were confronted with the calorific “damage” they had done during the meal, the conclusion was hardly shocking. Most said they would think twice about the choices they made if confronted with the calorie content. No sh*t, I’d be less inclined to eat a piece of cake if reminded that it accounted for half my daily, recommended intake. In fact, I have said no many times for that very reason.

The icing on top of this badly tasting cake is the timing. Thanks to coronavirus, anxiety is through the roof for many in the UK. With routines shattered and the future precarious, food and the structure mealtimes create are a lifeline.

The program concedes that we need calories to do and be. It makes valid points about the issues with food advertising. It even acknowledges that your weight isn’t simply about the culinary choices you make. But the truly awful concept contradicts any possible benefit of the broadcast. The headline message – burn your food, earn your food – is irresponsible and reductive. A catalyst for disordered eating. A reinforcement of the god awful notion that food is a naughty indulgence.

Food isn’t just about calories. It isn’t the bad guy. It has nutritional value too. It has mental benefits. It is social. A cause for celebration. When you’ve had an eating disorder, learning to eat properly again means learning this. It means learning to eat a chip without berating yourself or learning to exercise for the mental benefit not because you ate a sandwich you regret. This may sound small, but it isn’t.

The response from eating disorder charity, Beat, speaks volumes. The charity’s online support group stayed open an extra three hours for anyone triggered by the program. It later tweeted that its services had been in unusually high demand after its airing. This begs the question: were the wider implications of this reckless experiment ever considered? With mental health so high on the national agenda, did no one at the BBC ask if this could perhaps be detrimental to the audience? Because, diagnosed disorder or not, the show does nothing to promote a healthy relationship with food. Quite the opposite, it normalises the dangerous notion that food is a physical tax that will, if you’re not careful, lead to weight gain. And god forbid you gain weight!

The show also entirely misses the point. The beauty of food is that it is fuel, but also fun; a necessity and a pleasure. While it may not be a great idea to eat the kinds of rich foods you do in a restaurant all day, every day, you don’t eat out to count calories. As one diner said, “if you’re going out for a meal, you should be able to be relaxed”. Shout out to her for defending a guilt-free experience.

Obesity is a big deal. I’m not denying that. We do live more sedentary lives and more information about healthy choices might help. But not now and not like this. Having spent more time than I want to admit obsessing over calories and carbs – with dire consequences – I know that knowledge of the time taken to run off a burger is not tantamount to a healthy relationship with food. Far from it.

When restaurants finally reopen, I will try to ignore the calorie content and enjoy my food. So should you!