So far, we've covered some things Jay likes: most of Mozart's music, people of the cat persuasion, and other stuff real and virtual. Now we devote digital ink dots to that which Jay does not like. It's a capacious category, so this won't be anywhere near a thorough rollcall. Yet.

First, rutabagas, because they comprise almost all the food items on Jay's not-interested tab. Jay likes spinach, in the wonderful Popeye cartoons tradition, loves carrots and carrot juice, finds lettuce, tomatoes, and beans delectable, and readily consumes cauliflower, Brussels sprouts and - yes! - broccoli whenever possible. He relishes relishes, squashes, zuccini, 'shrooms (the edible kind, thank you), and most anything you'd find in a vegetarian dish, even sprouts in small quantities and edamame. He digs turnips, kale, mustard greens, parsleys and cabbages. Those rutabagas, turnip-like root vegetables, Jay simply does not like. Can't stand, is more like it. He limits his collard greens consumption to a single annual binge on and around the first of January. Upholding tradition, you understand, but collards isn't a don't like, just a prefer-other-things commodity.

Otherwise, there isn't much food that Jay dislikes, though he has many preferences. He prefers, for example, everything he's not supposed to have, especially desserts, more especially chocolate desserts, and even more especially chocolate cheesecake desserts with chocolate frosting on top infused with chocolate mousse and chocolate sprinkles, and chocolate syrup, and scoops - nay, gallons - of chocolate ice cream to hold it all up. Along with a chocolate smoothie to wash it down. In the glory days before he was bitten by the diabetes bug, Jay indulged in a slice of cake called "Death by Chocolate" at a Barnes & Noble café. It didn't work, he wrily pointed out, but he kept trying. His all time favorite pastry, and it's extremely difficult to pick, is pain au chocolat, a wonderful French concoction, wouldn't you know. It's called chocolatine in the South of France and sold in but two establishments local to Jay here in the South of the U.S.A.

Vive le pain.

Chocolate Heaven's a major pain to make: Laboriously convince about 422 kilograms of butter to meld with a couple grams of flour and some yeast. Coddle and bake this dough into just the right shape, and it's le crossant. Don't do it! Wrap it around a delectable concoction of extra dark chocolate, and then bake it up into the most scrumptious morsel in the known universe - chocolatine, pain au chocolat, whatever.

Jay first encountered the delectable in the 1970s in a tiny patisserie in Key West, Florida. Wandering Duval Street in search of breakfast, Jay followed his nose off the beaten path to a Frenchman's tiny bakery. Thrilled, he ordered another, and then another. Ah, but the Frenchman took offense at the reorder and refused to sell it. "This," he explained, "is a delicacy. You do not wolf them down by the dozen." Obviously, Monsieur Frenchman did not know Jay's appetite. Nor care. Jay fabricated a story about an aging relative back in the hotel and scored two more delectables to go. The Frenchman's parting comment: "Pffffft." So true.