You would think that she, at least, would be interested in cooking.
No, I wouldn't. She's massively obese, so even the mildest physical effort is difficult and exhausting. She's impulsive, has a nonexistent tolerance for frustration, and loses interest in anything that doesn't provide immediate rewards. And she has absolutely zero curiosity about anything, including cooking; she could easily make all kinds of hypercaloric deathchow at home for a lot less money than she spends on takeout and fast food--all she really has to do is abandon any restraint when it comes to using salt and fat--but she doesn't even care to try.
As a self-proclaimed foodie (sic) it would be so rewarding for her to be able to cook nice food at home.
Chantal doesn't
want "nice food." Nice food doesn't give her the massive rush of endorphins she's after, so it wouldn't be "rewarding" for her to cook it. She wants greasy, salty crap that sets neurotransmitters in the pleasure centers of her brain ablaze. And maybe it tastes good for the fleeting moment it's in her mouth before she swallows it mostly unchewed, but it's all about the dopamine for her.
Not saying that she would stop going at Arby's, but as a food lover...
She's not a food lover; she's a food
junkie. There are wine snobs, and there are guys who piss their pants and sleep behind dumpsters in between bottles of Thunderbird. Chantal is the equivalent of the latter. Thinking she's a foodie, gourmand, or any kind of actual lover of good food is like calling the wino an oenophile. There is no substance behind her use of the word "foodie"; she's just a dumb bitch who thought "Foodie Beauty" sounded cute, without having the first clue what a foodie actually is.
...she could expand her palate, learn about the basic tastes, try exotic food that aren't sold in fast food places, and what else.
It hardly matters. Look how fast she shovels food into her gob. She's not really tasting anything she eats, and she doesn't savor a damned thing. She eats ultra-processed crap with the most hamfistedly crude sugar-salt-fat flavor profiles because it's fleetingly tasty in the few seconds it passes over her tongue, and gives her the buzz she's craving.
But it's Chantal we're talking about and she has no intention of even being able to cook anything else than what you can throw in a pan an put at 350°F for 45 minutes. Luckily enough for her, this allows for a semi-decent meatloaf, but not much else. She burns every veggies, overcooks every fish and seafood... no wonder it's easier (and tastier-ish) to just drive to McDonald.
Agreed. And I'm convinced that the only reason Chantal ever bothers to cook anything is because she's dimly aware of the cultural expectations that she
should. It's a given that you shouldn't eat fast food and takeout for every single meal, especially if you're trying to be healthy; only lazy, fat slobs do that. So she occasionally cooks, despite having absolutely no interest in doing so and obviously taking no pleasure in the food she comes up with--because she thinks she should, and so she can prove to her haters that she doesn't just eat fast food.
It's all performance for her, and just as stage props only need to look like the real thing from the audience's perspective, the same goes for her "home cooking." Except she's a shitty propmaster who can't make food that can convince the audience that it's palatable, and a shitty actress who can't even pretend the food she's made is delicious or satisfying, .
Chantal is barren not only when it comes to her uterus, but also her brain. She lacks all kind of intelligence : practical, emotional, logical, interpersonal, and mostly intra-personal. She doesn't know what she wants for herself and is not interested in finding out. She has just enough brain cells to eat, shit and breath.[
Yeah, and this fascinates me about her. She's just so empty. There's absolutely nothing in there. Maybe she really is just an astoundingly perverse NPC, thrown into the game for maximum revulsion and comic relief, programmed to run on a predictable cycle.
