IT GROWS ON YOU

It strikes me that I currently do not eat the same as when I was still in college. Part of growing up is, necessarily, growing away from juvenile crap that one snarfed down with gusto as a teenager and early adult. And I should mention that certain things in that category no longer exist. Doggy Diner, source of marvelous chili dogs, is long gone. Kung pao beef isn't on the programme anymore. There was a chocolate place I fondly remember, and gelato is a fond memory but I still wholeheartedly of it.

Haven't had a burger in a heck of long time. Do you remember Zim's? Done in by fast food chains. As was Hungry Hippo. As well as a few dozen other groovy burger joints.

Think in terms of a milk shake, bacon cheeseburger, good fries, and no screaming kids with a free toy or a frightening clown. Mmm, baby.


When the interventionary cardiologist who did the angioplasty on the lower dexter extremity lectured me about correcting my sinful ways, he zeroed-in on smoking. Totally ignoring decades of extremely unwise dietary choices. Which included North Indian food very frequently, which meant meals that provided a stick of butter in every serving.

And pizza.

Pizza is one of the world's most perfect foods, suitable for students at university pulling an all nighter, the football squad celebrating a stellar victory, childrens' birthday parties, weddings, and office workers being thanked and incentivized by their generous employers. Anciently it was hunted down by wiry Roman legionairies galloping across the vast veldts of Emilia-Romana and Tuscany, grazing in the shade of majestic boabab trees, dodging lemurs..... nearly extinct in its homeland, but fondly introduced to the new world by settlers and explorers. Sometimes adorned with unorthodox vestments (pineapple).

On superbowl Sunday vast mounds of it will be consumed, fresh and bloody.

By stalwart righteous men cheering on the noble Seahawks.



Myself, I do not intend to watch the game at all.
But I might venture out for pizza.



Pineapple?



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