As a nonreligious, unpatriotic man, I look to my holidays to deliver something a little more tangible.

Usually, this means food. If a holiday has some kind of culinary or confectionary tradition attached to it, you can count me in.

So even though I have no idea who St. Patrick was, don't have an Irish bone in my body and don't even own an article of clothing with more than a few green stripes, I always look forward to this time of year.

Or, more specifically, to the few weeks leading up to it when Shamrock Shakes are available at McDonald's.

In spite of the unspeakable things they do to my digestive system, these minty desserts make this dreary time of year a little more tolerable.

With Easter coming soon, there's also the infallible Cadbury Creme Egg, whose ovular shape, pure center, and dichotomous fondant/chocolate interplay embodies the vernal rejuvenation of the impending equinox.

Obviously, I take food -- and specifically candy -- rather seriously.

And while I'd like nothing more than to have a Labor Day barbecue five times a week, there's something about the fleeting gastronomic revelry that makes it a lot more special.

If Cadbury Creme Eggs were available throughout the year, for example, I don't think I would eat them very often, but because they're only on shelves for a few months at a time, my yearly consumption usually tops the century mark.

Maybe I'm just a sucker for marketing, but I think there's something to be said for ephemerality.

From a distance, most holidays (religious, national and otherwise) seem rather similar, preaching some kind of broad moral or ideal that should ultimately be practiced all the time. "Love" and "brotherhood" and "ecological responsibility" don't need to be once-a-year events. I understand the need for what is basically a celebratory after-school special once in a while, but really, holidays are intrinsically boring.

That is, until you factor in the food. Every holiday has its own culinary identity, and that transitory epicurean landscape is what differentiates one from the other and what ultimately keeps things interesting.

Even for stuff you can get whenever, getting a holiday involved takes it to another level. You can eat turkey any time you want, but you'll still look forward to it on Thanksgiving because it's always a little better.

Ultimately though, it's the annual stuff that drives this fascination. King cake and fried matzah and conversation hearts are thousands of times more interesting to me than any religious or historical event, not to mention the fact that each incorporates some element of the holiday anyway.

Frankly, I don't care about Jesus or our founding fathers. Those sorts of things just don't matter to me.

What I need is food.

I don't need fireworks on Independence Day or a jack-o-lantern on Halloween or a kelly green shirt on St. Patrick's Day, so long as I have a hot dog, a handful of candy corn and a Shamrock Shake.

So even though most holidays leave me a man without a country, I always make sure I have a seat at the dinner table.

Adam Clair is a senior majoring in journalism and is The Daily Collegian's Tuesday columnist. His e-mail address is asc5014@psu.edu.