Comfort Food...

Food. Its a funny little word for a funny little thing that keeps us going. More than that, everyone seems positively infatuated with it (if you need proof consider the fact that obesity is now officially labeled an epidemic). I personally love food, and though it has its dark side (noticeably when consumed in great amounts) I could not in any way shape or form denounce that greatest of words used to describe edible items.
I don't know what item in the pantheon of foodliness has recently ascended to the position of "favored one" but I will tell you this (Disclaimer: vegans look away) I always love a good burger. preferably with cheese and other things piled high upon them. The 'fixins' if you will. And for those who've never taken the time to enjoy a good sandwich made with a hot ground beef patty, a slice of cheese, lettuce, tomato, and(preferably cooked) onion; I have but one thing to say to you: Your life is a horrid, unimaginably hollow facsimile of what a proper life should be... (If you are a vegetarian and/or have some other limit on your red meat ingestion, I respect your opinion, and respectfully decline to agree with you)
That all said, many foods have comforted me over the years (most made by my mother) but one I could always run to was a creation always made of my own accord. A recipe near to my heart sentimentally, and physically (cholesterol clogging my arteries, but still...so...good...). I speak of chicken parmesan. Whenever I choose to exert the time and effort required to make this dish (which doesn't happen anywhere near enough) I nearly kill myself in a feat of debauched over-consumption that must surely put eating competition champions to shame. It's just that good. And if you don't agree with me, you are simply wrong. Not wrong in just your answer, but your entire being exudes an aura of wrongness; and the natural world rebels at your presence. That is how much I like my comfort food.