Food. I fucking love it. But I have had plenty of weird food issues over the years and, as is so fun to do with one’s issues, I like to hang much of the blame on my childhood. I am not dissing my mother here. Considering she had nine kids to feed on my father’s trucker salary, she did an admirable job. But if I never see a deep freezer or drink powdered milk again in this lifetime, it’ll be far too soon. I’ve never had a steak in my life. More than one person has suggested that if I were to try one, I’d reintroduce land animals into my diet. I’m not interested. I quit beef when I was eighteen and looking back it was less about hurting the cows (though I love them enough to have two tattooed on my body) and more about what passed for meat when I was growing up....