Sandwiches are a thing, right? I know what you are thinking, “Does she need to ask?” In these times, you’re a thing or a no-thing.

Sandwiches are my thing. I do what I want to do. Haha. I do not. I do what my son/boss/mom/dog want to do. It makes a difference, who I give that thing to. Yes it do.

I thing, therefore I am.

The City Paper gave their love now. It’s makes a difference, the Sandwich Issue.  But it ain’t no big deal, there ain’t no sandwich ISSUE. No issues with that thing.  Cause we all need love now. And a sandwich is love now.

It’s a thing, do what you wanna do, I can’t tell you who to sandwich it to. Just give your love now, to whoever you choose. How can we lose, with the stuff they use now? The stuff they use!!! Lambstrami, lettuces you never heard of, cheeses that have aged since the stone age, doodads, micro-magnesium greenasium, pain domain, artisanal moutarde. It’s a thing. Sandwich to you now!

When it is a hotdog loaf.

Our local paper, The Washington Post, set the Going Out Guide staff on their way to choose DC’s 10 best hotdogs. Click on the link to see their choices. Best DC Hotdogs

Why ten?

I ain’t gonna weigh in. A hotdog  is always good to me, even when it is bad. Isn’t that why we who love them, love them?

Hokay, I take it back. All ten of these are rockdogs, stars in the sausage galaxie. My heart shines for them, a mere reflection of their glory. These dogs are sunshine and we beam back at them like yellow, nightlightmelting American cheese moondogs.

This week alone – National Sibling Day, National Pet Day and now – I need a nap – National Grilled Cheese Sandwich Day. Wait, I can’t sleep through that!

So here, in honor, still holding court after almost 100 years, THE sandwich, the grilled cheese. No grill in sight, tis true, but bury me in cheese, please.  A post reprised, the grilled cheese repraised.

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Delicious By Design includes photos produced by Renee Comet and me. Something like 35 of ’em, none of them sweets. Lots of meat and bacon and butter, plenty of onions and garlic. This food is loud and proud and crusty on the edges.  The author and designer, Rob Sugar, gave us free license in the studio. Well, at first we were on a retractable leash, but Renee and I gnawed through that on day one. Then our imaginations ran free through the neighborhood.

Free rein comes with responsibility, of course. Damnit Janet. As much as we sometimes want to bark at squirrels and dig big holes under fences and shake muddy water all over you, we don’t and we didn’t. No we don’t cause we are PROFESSIONALS.

Like grilled cheese and tomato soup, creativity and capability are halves of a whole at Renee’s studio. At their tastiest when mingled.

Yitz’s is the sort of deli that creates a longing in me. Perhaps in you, too, particularly if you have some jew in you. I do. It has never been nurtured, but it’s there, like a deep vein of chopped chicken liver in my soul – fatty and rich and comfortable.

Yitz’s is the sort of deli that creates a worry in me, too, because worrying runs in my veins as well, making me a certified member of the tribe. Yitz’s is so NOT of the moment – thank you – that one wonders if it will last as long as it should. Forever, that is. Forever and then another week, in case we got busy and didn’t make it in for a bowl of borscht and a corned beef on rye last Tuesday.

Yitz’s is the sort of deli that reminds you that your hipster self is tired. All you gotta bring is your appetite and your most bare, soulful self. Think cultural tethers , think leave my pretensions in the car, think we are one big rugelach loving tribe.

Yitz’s is the sort of deli that serves delicious food. And no one needs to critique/review/remark on it. It’s a good place. Always, one hopes.

Friend and neighbor, Michelle, sent us to Yitz’s. She knows Toronto, lucky girl. And she gets us, lucky us. Thank you, Michelle!