Ode to Glenny

Coming to New York, I figured that my eating habits would be affected in some manner.

I am not as certain as to how I predicted they would change, perhaps I would begin eating a lot of hot dogs or soft pretzels, who knows.

Yet my favorite culinary discovery made in my time here is not a street vendor, some swanky French brasserie or a hipster juice bar serving wheatgrass shots.

More delectable than anything Wolfgang Puck or Mario Batali could concoct, more satisfying than a seven course meal at Aureole, and more endearing than any offering of the Mister Frostee ice cream trucks littering Manhattan...the latest object of my affection goes by the name of Glenny.

Oh Mr. Glenny, how I adore you. 

Let me count the ways...your caramel soy crisps are savory, sweet, and considerate. Thank you for offering me over 11 grams of soy protein per bag. Thank you for being so available to me, I can rest easy knowing that you are only as far from me as the nearest Duane Reade. And thank you for only being $2.59, in a city where Jell-o (a former fling) can set me back $8.

I hope that our relationship will not expire with my time spent here in New York.