Sandwiches and Proust

The CBC [Canadian Broadcorping Castration... whoops, Canadian Broadcasting Corporation] has a show called "Sounds Like Canada" [which, if I heard Kevin Sylvester correctly, is going to be cancelled in the next couple of weeks!... what is up with these people... don't they know that, to quote a person close to me, "change is bad"?], and on that show messages from listeners are being played, detailing the sandwiches they consider delicious... after a few episodes traditional niceties were left behind, and now we are hearing about such delights as peanut butter and bologna, mustard and garlic, red onion and a variety of substances, et cetera, ad nauseum... but only because this listener is not the originator of the sandwich causing the slight rising of the bile. I am sure that, to each of the presenters, these concoctions are truly tasty and comforting [I must confess a liking for cheddar cheese and raspberry jam sandwiches, which, while mild on the disgust-o-meter, have elicited groans from others when offered as a dandy option]. One common denominator seems to be that, to a person, the peculiarly arranged alchemy of these productions was arrived at while still relatively young... bringing to mind the Proust maxim, "what is patriotism but the love of [I've also heard "memory of"] good things one ate in childhood." I'm not sure that an army could be mounted on the basis of a shared love of alfalfa sprouts and raisins on whole wheat [or even the simple madeleine, the biscuit of Proust's longing for temps perdu], but I do know that I will eat a great variety of foods I've been eating since young that, if I were introduced to them as an adult, I would find disgusting... or at least uninteresting. Most of these, for me, fit in the uninteresting category, macaroni and cheese [the packaged kind, of course] with a lot of Heinz's Ketchup on it, or wheat-puff chocolate squares... both of which I enjoy, but wouldn't eat now if I hadn't eaten them then... unless necessary for politeness' sake.