This week, I ate a lot of dry Caesar salads and limp, over-refrigerated wraps with questionable expiration dates. Almost everything was dressed too much or not enough, and I washed it all down with light and sweet burnt coffee and possibly, maybe, the whipped cream top of a Frappuccino. No, I wasn't having some sort of bad streak in the kitchen where my taste buds went rogue and craved mediocre everything. I was traveling.
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