I know people, I'm afraid to say, that dislike soup. They find it to be a pale substitute for a plate of meat and sides. Soup, for them, if it must be digested, should be consumed in small portions prior to eating an actual meal. I scoff at this. Hak!
I have considered making a journey to the desert this spring. I have had quite enough of the cold and ice. The desert, warm and dry, seems like a fantasy that just so happens to be a short plane ride away.
I pride myself on being able to make a meal of anything. Leftovers? Easy. Pasta and olive oil? Sure. An onion and saltines? Yep. Celery and a lemon rind? Without issue.
When I think of dairy, I think of a three-dimensional wedge of cheese, which conjures an image of a mouse. That leads me to cartoons, which leads me to children, which leads me to babies.
I'm a drinker more than an eater. I always have been. When I say drinker, I don't mean a drinker of alcoholic beverages, though I have one now and again. I mean the consumption of liquids over solids.