- Paul
Everlasting Gobstoppers
Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory
Nestlé's Wonka company actually released some traditional jawbreakers under the name "Gobstoppers." Rubbish. What I really want are these gorgeous little playthings. They don't look like they have a particularly pleasant mouthfeel, but that never really mattered - I just wanted them to have & hold & look at, even if it were just one (because one is enough for anybody).
Chinese gum
Seinfeld
Back in the 80s, there was something called Fortune Bubble; the gum itself tasted like it came out of a pack of trading cards, but I was enamored with the packaging and the novelty of the fortune that came with each stick. I'm sure there's some relationship in my own mind between that and Lloyd Braun's Chinese gum, which he very sanely describes as "the most delicious gum" he's ever tasted. And quite frankly, when Jerry describes the flavor as being "a little lo-meiny" it only piques my interest further.
The Sandwich
The Simpsons
No one enables my food fetish more than this particular boob from Sector 7G, and of all the various dishes he's romanticized over the seasons, the 10-foot hoagie that wouldn't die is the most intriguing. Homer's devotion to this company picnic leftover is admirable, enviable, and understandable; what it boils down to is: I love sandwiches and I hate wasting food. The darker and more grotesque it gets, the stronger the bond grows.
Enemy Bait
The Legend of Zelda
I basically wanna eat or have sex with every one of the Legend of Zelda "items." But this actual piece of food looks savory and also thought-provoking; from which Hyrulean creature did this piece of meat come? We know they have chickens, but that looks to be like one helluva thighbone - possibly from a Moblin or a Lynel? The proportions of these supplies vs. how much Link can actually carry is just puzzling enough that we can never be sure.
Bat on a stick
Three Amigos
I'm aware that this is actual cuisine in some cultures, but I'm not interested in whatever fancy culinary preparation they put it through - I want it campfire roasted to a crisp. The Amigos really sell it as some sorta midpoint between burnt bacon and rotisserie chicken skin, and ever since I was 4 years old, whenever I eat these aforementioned analogies, I pretend it's a chewy desert bat.
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