Sandwich Bomb!

From L Roy, a prodigious sandwich inhaler and friend.

I just inhaled one of the most delicious/grotesque sandwiches ever made I only eat one of these every two years, though I can’t seem to eat it slowly, as much as I want to savor it.

It’s the Egg Bomb from Nicola Pizza, Arlington, MA. I may have submitted this WMD a few years ago, but The Bomb is known to cause memory loss as well as numerous other debilitations.

Read and weep:

Scrambled egg

Sautéed mushrooms

Grilled onions

Green peppers

Pepperoni

Sausage

Cheese (American I think, but as I said, it went down too fast)

I had to eat this in a nearby park because,

– the shop had just mopped its floors (though it was hard to tell) and smelled of ammonia

– too messy to eat anywhere except the great outdoors

There were children playing on the swings nearby and I feared arrest for exposing a minor to obscenities. Whatever, part of growing up.

As Red Sox fans like to sing, “so good, so good, so good.”

Time for dessert…

Colossal/Art and Design

“We can’t do great things in this life… We can only do small things with great love.”

Mother Theresa

Why do we love tiny things? I found an ungooglable quandary. Why o why do we love miniatures? Got a theory? I’d love to see it, here on my tiny monitor. Clue me in. I’ve got a grilled cheese the size of a postage stamp waiting for you in my panini press, if I can find it (the sandwich).

Theories, off the top of my tiny brain:
1. Tiny things turn our sense of wonder upside-down and open up our “awe” factor.
2. We are all, at our most primal, seeking power over our world.
3. Dink is so frackin cute. Gives one that swooshy feeling and we LIKE it.

Thanks to Dr. Joe for the linkykinkydink.

Vegan food makes me nervous. And gluten free, too. I’ll take my food with all the parts, the whole dog and pony show, all the bells and whistles. Meat, butter, bread, cheese. I’ll take it in broad strokes. Don’t wanna break it down to a sludge test, dissecting and rejecting.

That’s just me. You, a person, or persons, anyone could and should do whatever you/they want. Not that they/you asked for my permission. You didn’t? Oh yeah, you didn’t.

It’s just food after all. Just the thing that binds and bonds us, ties and minds us, makes us who we are, individually, autonomously and en masse. It’s just food. So yeah, each speck and spectral counts, doesn’t it? Each part and particle.

I had lunch at Sticky Fingers and it was deluxhiouss. A grilled cheese with soy cheese. Who’s to say that that is not cheese? It was de-freaking-luxhiousss.

So, am I taking a stand here? On the balance beam? Cheese is cheese is cheese, yes? I don’t know. It’s a greasy, non-buttery, slippery slope. Have we evolved beyond animal foods? My visceral self says no. En Oh. Time will tell.

And then there is the baconless, hamfree club. How do they do that? And do we want them to? I dunno. Weigh in, people!

Vote for the Best Sandwich

File under Expressions I Cannot Use Without Cringing: It’s all good. Using it now without even a slight shudder. There is NO SUCH THING as the best sandwich. They are (almost) all good. People like to vote. That’s how they (File Under Expressions I Do Not Use) roll.

Personally, I would rather do the “Dog Breed Personality Quiz”. (Bernese Mountain Dog. Thanks for asking.) Watch for the upcoming “Sandwich Personality Quiz, PB & J or Club, How Do You Stack Up?”

In the meanwhile, here at The Lunch Encounter, all sandwiches are number one. You don’t have to be a winner to be number one. With me. Trophies all around!

Lunch Bag Art by David LaFerriere

Thanks to King-of-the-Road Jeff for Sandwich Madness.