There isn't much Italian food that Jay not just likes, but out-and-out craves. Pizza, well, okay, if it's there it's going to be gone soon but pizza's not on Jay's uncontrollable-urge-to-consume list. Fettuccini, though. And lasagna! Italian cooking has a double delight. First, it tastes good, and second it's fun to say. Tortellini, Manicotti, Fettuccini Alfredo, Pasta Fagioli, and the ever popular Dolci, a shining example of which is Tiramisu. Trust the Italians to sprinkle extra syllables into everything so the tongue gets so tired rolling over it all that it needs some linguini alla formaggio con whateveri dothingy stuff to sustain it. Extra sauce. Pomodori, you know.

Jay also likes most Chinese food, Japanese food except sushi, Mexican food that isn't too peppered up to stay in the same room with, Indian (as in India) food, especially those unpronounceable multisyllabic bread things from the tandoori ovens, French food that doesn't come from some unappetizing creature (like escargot!) and salad. He likes Southern food, but his taste in barbecue leans toward Mongolian, though he also has a warm spot in his clogged arteries for the mustard-based style of good ol' Southern barbecue.

Given druthers, he'd rather have simple fare, nothing fancy, and mostly vegetarian. Jay likes granola, but mostly eats only shredded wheat lately, to spare his blood sugar the shock of raisins, mangoes, apricots, and dates. He springs for organic milk and produce, in the hope of not being morphed by the non-organic kind into a three-headed gnome. Or a corpse. You can't say Jay's into conspiracy theory. For one thing, conspiracy's a fact, not a theory.

For many years, Jay was indeed a strict vegetarian, and considerably healthier back then - maybe from the food but more probably from simple youthfulness. His Sainted Mother never understood. She'd always provided proper Southern fare swimming in fat and washed down with tea so sweet it'd make a stalk of sugar cane jealous. Yet, freshly out on his own and living it up in Charlotte, Jay converted to vegetarianism and wouldn't touch a potroast, much less ladle the gravy onto a bed of mashtaters. She had to be convinced it wasn't a religion. Heresy, really. Want some more roast turkey and dressing?

Being a vegetarian back then wasn't easy, especially in restaurants, and out of frustration Jay later reformed. Caved in. Sold out, as his friends accused. Still, he knows one important thing about organic foods: the stuff tastes better!

Of the meals Jay's ever had - and that's a bunch of meals - his all time favorite is a Northern Italian dinner that he surrounded in a hotel's restaurant in San Francisco in the early 1990s. For two days he had smelled the food while at a convention of Amiga computer enthusiasts where he was chalking up his alloted minutes of fame as a featured speaker. Things weren't going well, and he was trying to hold expenses down, in spite of thirteen-dollar cold turkey sandwiches in the hotel's lobby eateries. The Italian aromas enticed him, so he just had to partake. He skipped some touristy outings, shortened his stay, saved his coins and splurged the lot on his last day in the city. It was wondrous, and he doesn't regret the extravagance. He remembers the experience to this day. What food!