Newfound Tastes? Or Rediscovered Ones?

 I have a strange and newfound appreciation for American cheese.

 And Iceberg lettuce. And Bologna Burgers. And, yes, at least annually, Spam.

 What the hell is wrong with me? I'm supposed, by education, travel, and reading, to be a gourmand. A connoisseur, an aficionado. And so I remain for many things: gin, malt whisky, beer (Light Beer is NOT beer; get a *#%ing Lager, people), hot dogs, pizza, lamb, most seafood, most bread, deserts, pasta.

My mother said that one's sense of taste changes every 7 years. Okay, so at 63, mine changed. A casual Web-search reveals no solid evidence in support of mom's claim, so I'll say "I remain skeptical, mom." Slinging about Occam's Razor, my go-to way to resolve conflicting explanations, tells me that something else likely triggered this interest in comfort foods of my childhood. No, not THAT man. He only makes me want to vomit. His name goes unspoken here.

Let's start with cheese. Lord knows, the right Stilton remains my favorite partner for crackers and a dollop of homemade jam.

Yet, folks, a soft inexpensive cheese brings delight for certain dishes, including grilled-cheese sandwiches, quesadillas, and hot dogs (Hebrew National, thank you) with cheese. Even a bit of heat makes the moisture-laden slices of American melt, including a palate-pleasing sensation that returns me to the solace of "hot lunches" at St. Benedict's School, the only thing I miss about my eight years of bullied Catholic imprisonment at that place.

As on Thursday St. Benedict's "hamburger days," American cheese adds perfection to a cheeseburger at a place called Riverside Lunch in Charlottesville, VA. That remains my world-beating favorite cheeseburger.

Now, for the bologna, or "baloney" if you wish. I cannot eat the childhood Oscar-Mayer stuff; it reminds me of something pink that would come from Play-Doh's Fun-Factory. My baloney has a different first name, thank you. Fried Lebanon, German, or Kosher Bologna, sliced thick, topped with that American cheese, and nestled between sliced of white toast with Iceberg lettuce and mustard?

Oh, yes.

Iceberg lettuce, I'm told, has zero nutritional value and adds no appreciable fiber to our diets.  WebMD notes the value of its Vitamin K, for blood-clotting. Otherwise, zilch. But that crunch!

I love bitter, healthy greens, too. For salads my favorite is neither bitter green nor Iceberg: It's Red-Leaf or Green-Leaf Lettuce, but for BLTs and other sandwiches, I want a head lettuce, preferably Iceberg.

Did my tastes change? No. Maybe my snobbery waned.

In difficult, complicated times, these comfort foods help to sustain us through heartbreaks ahead, all the while saving money.

What is NOT to love?

Spam needs its own post, as does meatloaf, so I will stop there. 

Just find something to eat that brings you comfort and enjoy it in moderation. Your soul will thank you.

Image source: Wikipedia Commons