Not good for me, yet good for me

I like to cook. And I like to eat what I cook. Sometimes, though, I find fine dining too much. I hit these depressions, and the urges hit in response.

A cheap can of cashew halves and pieces. A big one - 16 ounces - from Walmart does me.
A bag of chocolate chips. This is not going to be a fine meal, it's stuffing the beast - cheap chips from Walmart are again fine.
Half a bag of cheap, small marshmallows. See the above.

Toss. Gorge.

When I get told of someone needing a carton of ice cream, I do not smirk. We each have that which fills the urge, and the shame is not ours but belongs to those who lack the humanity to have them (or more likely, the honesty to admit them).