I Am What I Chew

i do loves me some pig parts

So, after I met with my nutritionist (the lovely Nancy Bennett) in San Francisco, I walked a few blocks to the Ferry Building, which is in the shadow of the Bay Bridge. Yes, you can catch a ferry there, but most people go there to partake in the foodie experience.

Want gluten-free bread?  Organic pomegranates? Overpriced–er, I mean gourmet–chocolates? No prob. There’s a wine bar and a tea place, and if you are feeling a quart low, a fancy olive oil joint.

Of course, being the Midwest girl that I am, it was the lure of “tasty salted pig parts” that stopped me in my tracks.

I came, I inhaled, I took a photo.  But I did not eat the pig.

Instead, I got a glass of iced green tea and sat in the sunshine and looked at the Bay. It was a good day.

canned dessert or medical condition?

Although I’m more open to new foods than I used to be (hello, rutabagas!) there are some things I refuse to put in my mouth.

Leave it to those silly British, who call Fries “chips” and chips “crisps.”

Instead of calling a sponge pudding with raisins a “sponge pudding with raisins” they dubbed it “spotted dick.” This, of course, is hilarious to us Americans, who will giggle uncontrollably at the mention of any anatomical reference.

Not only does it have a terrible name, but it’s made with shredded suet.

That’s right, beef fat.

I’ll pass.