We all have 'em, those secret, guilty pleasures. I'm sure someone I know likes to listen to Celine Dion. That would not be me, by the way. I wouldn't even joke about that one.
How many times did you go see Mama Mia last summer? Eleven? (I don't care. I may be such a snob that instead of seeing movies, I watch "films," or "cinema," but those three "been around the block" broads in that Abba Fest ROCKED!)
But here's the real twist: I am an indisputable foodie. Gourmand unsurpassed, actually.
- Just the right fruity olive oil drizzled over the creamiest vanilla-bean ice cream, sprinkled with Himalyan pink sea salt.
- Award-winning Amadei Black 70% cacao-infused Chocolatier Blue truffles, (although, I prefer Amadei's Ecuador to it's higher prized Madagascar. And Chris Blue's passion fruit caramel truffles don't suck, either.)
- Forever in search of the flakiest, puffiest-puff-pastry-like Almond Creme Croissant, which so far I found at the French French Bakery in Durango, Colorado. Ambrosia Bakery on Ocean Blvd. in San Francisco runs a close second. But I know there is an even better Almond Croissant out there somewhere, just because I believe in perfection.
- Like Eric's soft and slightly chewey crab-and-cream-cheese-ballooned rangoons that think they're related to Krispy Kreme doughnuts.
AND SO IS SPAM.I know I shouldn't like it. I know I should make fun of spam sushi and spam burgers and fried spam with eggs and creatively carved spam loaves at weddings, (yes, it's true. I've been to those kinds of shin-digs, and spam disappears off the buffet before the deviled eggs, so there!)
I just can't help it. I LOVE SPAM...On big soft bread with French's yellow mustard and sweet'n'tangy Miracle Whip (seriously, the only time I can eat sweet mayonnaise) all sloshed up in the middle. Chased with a bottle of Orange Crush.