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I don’t like to think of myself as a ‘foodie’.  I always think of it as a little snobby.  I don’t feel snobby about food.  Sure, I might drift into the Cheese Traveler and pick up some gorgonzola from Italy to smear on a slow cooked london broil seasoned with a self-made rub comprised of various spices.  Sure, we often prefer to eat indian or middle eastern and really never go to Applebees, Chilis, or Ruby Tuesday anymore unless forced so to do.  Sure, I get a kick out of browsing around a farmer’s market and have gone so far as to program the location of one in MA into our GPS when I knew we’d have some time to kill on a Sunday morning while on a visit there (yes, we went – bought some local small batch root beer).

But I still don’t feel like a foodie.  Nor do I particularly want to.

If any more proof is needed, just note the dreamy look in my eyes at a certain time of the year…

Oh yeah. McRib me

Oh yeah. McRib me.