The deliciousness of childhood, lathered on with a spoon. The sweet, sparkled tang of simplicity. It is happiness itself, accompanied with a cool drink of something chocolate. Everything else seems snobbish in comparison. Alongside the fennel, the codfish, the frown-inducing rhubarb risotto, it lies on certain menus as a planted flag of Life as it Should Be. It is peanut butter. It is jelly.
The greatest love story America has told.
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