I had almost the same experience, only I got peanut butter crackers, Nesquik, and 'The Swan Princess'.

Or a trail runner, but their stories are marginally more interesting. Marathon runners don't have to carry bear repellent.

There's a cramped little hole-in-the-wall sushi restaurant in my hometown, where I had a plate of gyoza, then one piece each uni, smelt roe, and flying fish roe, washed down with a can of Coke and followed by a deep fried slice of cheesecake. Heavenly.

That omelette the Doctor cooks up in the episode ‘The Lodger’. Even though it appears to be filled with ham, grated cheese and MAYO (or is it pancake batter? Hard to tell.).

They’ll usually stop if you go out to meet them, especially if you’re visibly carrying cash. Just don’t stand in their path. Go out, stand where they can see you such as on the right-of-way, wave a fistful of bills.

There’s one independent truck that covered my neighborhood for the past several years (haven’t seen it yet this year, sadly), that was actually rather hard to track down, because it played ‘Turkey In The Straw’ at such high volume it could be clearly heard four blocks away. The first year, he actually got lost, went…

Good point. I think some of my neighbors came from there.

You do realize '$8 bucks' reads as '8 dollar bucks'? I hope they didn't actually charge you either twice or in male deer.

Try some of the places in Madison WI, they do decent salsa. And I'm both German and Norwegian.

No Mexican place I've ever been to did that. I sure hope you're joking.

When you live four blocks from a gourmet butcher shop, you might as well work with the interesting stuff they stock.

I cooked it for a church fundraiser (to feed member volunteers) and everybody liked it except for a handful of members, several of whom ate it anyway, and one woman who has celiac disease and couldn't have had it if she wanted to.

Oh yeah? You've obviously never had my chili. It has Scotch bonnets, chorizo, and alligator cooked in chile oil.

I remember a friend of my father telling me how, when his family came to Wisconsin from Australia, his mother attempted to cook Wisconsin foods. ''Eat your brat, Andrew." Only she pronounced like she was feeding him an unruly child, with a 'short a' sound.

I got a bag of roasted chestnuts (never had them before), forgot about them, and a couple of weeks later tried to eat one that had spoiled. Looked and smelled like a smoked oyster.