Speaking of which, I guess the only amazing thing about all the long knives suddenly coming out for the world’s most famous food blogger is how long it’s taken. Once she admitted she’s into pain, the gloves were off, and I’m not talking latex. We were at a dinner party in Brooklyn the other week when another guest, one not even in the food coven, went into how she had behaved like a Palin-class asshole at a premier. Twitter has been abuzz with how contemptuously she treated 9/11 firefighters, to the point that one editor turned down the first book. And now a question that has long bothered me has even started to be broached on Twitter: Was it misery or was it fantasy? Only her poor schlub knows for sure.