A few (actually two) of my favorite things . . .

I worked in the family bakery every Saturday since I was eleven until I went to college so maybe that's why one of my favorite things--even now--is a fresh hard roll.

Fresh hard rolls haven't yet started to wrinkle from spending their time inside the plastic bag. They still sport their crunchy shells. A squeeze of the package confirms this, and if you want to make 100% sure that you're selecting the freshest rolls they have, just look at the sell by date. You want the rolls with the date that's the farthest away, usually the bags on the back row or hiding underneath the less fresh rolls.

Add a slice of Danish Havarti from the Deli to your hard roll (as long as it's a good hard roll and a good brand of Havarti) and you have perfection. No need to muddy it up by adding sliced turkey, tomatoes, sprouts, lettuce, avocado, or smearing it with mayo. Just enjoy the simple perfection of crunchy shell that flakes off when you take a bite, then the fluffy bready interior and the cool, creamy cheese.

I discovered Havarti cheese in my high school art class. My teacher brought us apple slices and Havarti as a treat, and the Havarti hooked me.

Isn't it interesting how some of the things we learn weren't the main point of the experience? My art class's purpose was to teach me how to use line, composition, color, but it also taught me to love Havarti cheese.

Isn't it interesting how a lot of who we are grows out of us embracing pieces of the life we live? It's like a kid walking along the shoreline. There's seaweed strewn along the sand, shells, little bits of this and that left behind by beach goers; there's the sound of the ocean, the view, the way the kid's feet feel when the water washes away the sand beneath them. But for some reason, the kid spots a twig--something she could find most anywhere--and she bends down to examine it. Later she adds it to her collection, kept in a plastic bin beneath her bed.

We all have favorite things. They define us.