The other day, I was craving meatloaf and then, of course, I reminded myself that I don’t really like meatloaf and that the only proper purpose for ground beef is to make a proper burger. But still, something about the texture and the homey comfort of a childhood favorite was calling to me. Of course, when I was a kid, I liked all manner of foods that don’t really stand up all that well to an adult palate -- freeze-pops and Big Macs, Campbell’s canned soup and tuna cassarole. They all seem so good in theory I suspect because such strong memories are attached to them. Our recollections are tainted, not to be trusted. In a good way, perhaps, but they are not to be trusted nonetheless.
For instance, my favorite meal when I was sick was Campbell’s cream of tomato soup with grilled cheese sandwiches (made with Velveeta and Town Talk bread, yo.) But the idea of that exact meal? Do I really want that now? Not so much, actually.