French fries
My family, and just about everyone I know, somehow universally feel french fries are communal food; always trying to reach into the bag early and pick at someone’s pile; and then reaching over, calm as you like, and picking directly from my pile when theirs is gone.
You can have my steak and my ice cream; you can have my bank account and my house, you can even have my soul – but damn it, I want my french fries to be my french fries.