Another season has passed. The McRib is gone.

Most people don’t get my obsession—and yeah, I’ll acknowledge that some years it really qualified as that—with the McRib from McDonald’s.

I’m not going to sit here and tell you it’s the greatest sandwich ever. I’m also not going to pretend I don’t know how it’s made, or that anyone in their right mind should eat one. I’m aware. Fully aware. And I understand exactly why most people would steer clear.

The difference between me and those people is simple: nostalgia.

The McRib is exactly what it needs to be. A sandwich that comes back once a year, for a limited time, and reminds me of my youth. There’s nothing quite like it anywhere else—believe me, I’ve looked. I’ve tried copycat recipe after copycat recipe, all in an effort to recreate it. None of them ever quite get there.

You just don’t run into that bun anywhere. Its ability to hold up to the sheer weight of the sauce is honestly impressive. And that sauce—technically BBQ, but if you deconstruct it, you’ll find there are things in there that don’t normally belong. The result is this soft pillow of bread and pork wrapped in a sugary, rich tang.

Add the fresh onions and pickles for a little crunch, and suddenly you really do have something special.

While I’m always a little sad when you leave, I understand. If you stayed too long, I’d eventually get tired of you. Your scarcity is part of the appeal. The wait is what keeps me coming back.

Until next year.