I am beginning to think I need to join a 12-step program, for I am addicted to food. My obsession is certainly not in an overeaters-anonymous type of way, but leans toward an unrealistic and unnatural addiction to the "foodie lifestyle."

I can hum the theme song to "Good Eats" in my sleep and have a personal lexicon that includes phrases like "braising" and "smoke point." I study Calphalon catalogs and have a cast iron Dutch oven on my personal wish list. I own stacks of food magazines, clippings of recipes, cookbooks published by my friends and heroes and coffee table books that can only be described as "food porn." My personal photo gallery of bacon makes me feel slightly dirty.

I think about food in unnatural ways.

Is it possible that the reason tornadoes hit mobile homes so voraciously is because meteorological bodies have taste buds and folks in Kansas taste like prime rib? And what happens if you’re vegan and Catholic? How do you deal with transubstantiation while receiving communion, and do vegan Protestants have the same problem with consubstantiation?

Why is it that my local market has more varieties of tofu disguised as hot dogs, bacon, turkey and chicken patties than they do decent kimchi? Why is it that white people are so afraid of Spam? Spam is brilliant! So what if it enjoys a longer shelf life than the average presidentially appointed cabinet member? Doritos should come out with a kimchi flavor. Definitely. And why can’t I get pickle-and-ketchup-flavored potato chips in California?

While at dinner with friends, I’m always given the responsibility of ordering for the group. Taking into consideration everyone’s personal tastes and dietary restrictions, I coordinate the feast that accommodates everyone. This is no small feat when dealing with vegetarians, South Beach dieters, the mushroom allergic and fiber adverse. This challenge is as facile as slicing tofu with a sword. My restaurant ordering-foo is strong.

Now if I actually cooked more often, this would be stellar. Sadly, I confess that while my ordering-foo is strong, my shopping for ingredients and actually planning and cooking meals-foo is quite weak. I use the following excuses:

No. 1: Cooking for one is no fun.

No. 2: Same amount of dishes to wash. Somehow seems inefficient. And frankly, I’m just too lazy for inefficient.

No. 3: My vanity precludes me from expending this much effort without an audience. If a cook says "Bam!" in the kitchen by oneself, did it really happen? Man, it’s just painfully unsatisfying.

No. 4: Coq au Vin, to be done correctly, requires an older chicken, ideally an old, ornery rooster. I have yet to see "old, ornery rooster" at Whole Foods.

No. 5: I can’t figure out whether a shiraz or cabernet is a better match for dubujigae. There are no guidelines on this.