I love to eat, but I hate to eat poison. As obvious as that statement may be, it has completely changed my life over the last few years. Because of it, I have found myself obsessively reading labels, researching bizarre ingredients, and generally transforming food shopping into a hellish odyssey of doubletalk and desperation.

Because of that short sentence, I have had to cut out most junk food, many prepared sauces (including ketchup), and an amazing array of things that I once considered staples. I no longer eat Big Macs, Welch's jelly, Coca Cola, most Pepperidge farm breads or Claussen's pickles. In short, my quest to avoid high fructose corn syrup (HFCS), partially hydrogenated oils, and other industrial ingredients has completely changed the way I eat.

This isn't to say that I'm a total health food junkie. Actually, I have a major sweet tooth and have to be physically restrained if candy bars, premium dark chocolate, or butter pecan ice cream are in the room. Even these luxuries, however, are becoming infiltrated by the forces of fake food. A recent article on ABC News noted that major candy companies, including Hershey's and Nestle, are increasingly substituting cheap vegetable oils for cocoa butter in many of their chocolate bars. While the manufacturers claim that this doesn't affect the flavor of their products, many consumers disagree, and some have described the products as "waxy and artificial."

One of the sacred memories of an American childhood is going upscale. M&Ms, those much-loved candy-coated bits of chocolate that could salve any ouchie, are now going premium, which means fancier coatings, fancier flavors, fancier packaging...all at a much fancier price. Why? Blame it on the fancy chocolate market.

My wife is a premium chocolate junkie, which means that, in the eight or so years that we've been together, I've learned more than I ever thought possible about chocolate. I have absorbed information about chocolate liqueur, cacao percentage, cocoa mass, cocoa solids, country of origin, and all the other variables that separate the Dagoba from the Valhrona, the Scharffen-Berger from the Hershey's and the top-of-the-line from the bottom of the barrel.

Personally, though, my tastes have always tended toward the more proletarian. While I appreciate the occasional bar of 72% cocoa solids, dark Belgian chocolate, I still get a big kick out of a couple of Reese's cups, a packet of Kit-Kats, or a handful of kisses. Most of all, like millions of other Americans, I have a big, warm, candy-coated spot in my heart for M&Ms.

Over the years, M&Ms have gone through quite a few transformations. Originally given to soldiers in World War II, the peanut and chocolate candies with a hard shell were later joined by solid chocolate, almond (1988), peanut butter (1990), dark chocolate (2005), and crisped-rice (1998-2005) candies. They have been mixed with a variety of flavorings, super-sized, and even shrunk to miniatures.