We all have that one meal that our mom or dad made from our childhood that we all liked. Perhaps irrationally so.
Maybe it was putting ketchup on anything and everything. Or the carbo-nightmare of a fluffernutter sandwich. Maybe it's something too beyond the pale for someone from the outside to come in and slap a description on. But it was there. You remember it fondly, even if you wouldn't poke it with a stick if someone plopped it down in front of you. It's a part of you, no matter how offensive to your present senses it may be.