Alright. Tomato sandwiches are great, but their consistency as a menu item around here has left me with very little blogging material. Plus I'm just not up to the picture-uploading thing right now. Plus it's Sunday. Time for a confession.
I like hot dogs. I'm a little ashamed of publishing this. Especially being a person who calls herself a "foodie". My table should only be graced with the most wholesome of foods prepared with fresh, local ingredients and presented in the finest taste. Right? I'm supposed to shun so-called "foods" that contain a long list of obscure and un-pronouncable ingredients such as (hang on, let me find a highly processed food that's lurking about . . .) "thiamin mononitrate" and "sodium aluminosilicate"*.
But the fact is I don't have such a pristine criteria for what I consider "food" or even "good food" for that matter. I suppose I can chalk some of this up to sentimentalism. The family gathered around a crackling campfire. Forest sounds reverberating beyond our circle's cheery glow. A piece of unappetizing processed "meat" sizzles and spits as it cooks over the flames . . . Substitute "A lump of processed sugar substance puffs and goldens over the flames . . ." and I've explained away my craving for a nice toasted marshmallow too. It could be the association with good, family times that sends me into a downward hot-dog-craving spiral.
Or, I'll admit, it could just be plain "poor taste." (har, har). Pass the relish and mustard please.
*Ingredients culled from a (now-empty) "Cheez-It" box and container of "French Vanilla Coffee-mate"