I always wanted a knish. From the first day I saw one, I wanted it. You'd think this would work out for me, but it didn't. I'd buy one and hate it. Couldn't even eat it; threw it away. But this encounter didn't diminish my urge to eat knishes. So I bought them again and again -- but it always ended the same way. It seems I don't like knishes.
Even at Ratner's, the Jewish restaurant on 2nd Avenue, I didn't like the knishes. (Frankly, everything at Ratner's was a little too clean and pure for me. I like grease with my breakfast, thank you.) But still, my knish situation didn't change. I wanted one.
I would kill for a good knish this morning.