The worst food I have ever eaten came from a small roadside convenience store in Redwood National Park in Northern California. I was something like eight years old and I chose an egg salad sandwich from the poorly stocked shelf. When I peeled off the shrink-wrap I saw that the moisture of the egg salad had seeped through the bread and congealed into a skin around the sandwich. I was very hungry so I bit into the slippery thing anyway. The flavor of the oozing egg and white bread that coated my tongue and the back of my teeth was far stronger than it should have been. It tasted like a wet chunk of liver, reclaimed from a few-days-dead goose. I choked down the sludge and started to cry. An earwig climbed out of my bite mark.