Sandwiches = Life. There is probably only one reason to continue shuffling about our mortal coil on this dirty blue marble—and that is sandwiches and the promise of more sandwiches to come. Sandwiches combine deliciousness with convenience with impregnating your brain with hugs.
This regular column will discuss sandwiches, “sammiches”, stories about sandwiches, updates in sandwich technology, and what you like to do when you eat sandwiches. It’s basically sandwich porn.
Today’s Sandwich: The Sicilian Hoagie at Garden State, a food cart in Sellwood.
My wife picked up this beauty for me on her way home from a friend’s house. She dropped it off and had to move along to another errand, so it was just me and the sandwich.
I was on the computer, barely paying attention to the cylinder of bread in meat I was absent mindedly shoving into my sandwich hole (yeah, I don’t have a pie hole, I have a sandwich hole—deal with it). Suddenly, and without warning, my tongue fell through the wardrobe and into the magical land of Narnia. Complex flavors of sweet and sour from the vinaigrette dressing danced along the firmament of fresh, well cured Italian meats. The rustic, hand crafted bread crunched nobly beneath my teeth, pushing back just a touch as to say, “I LIVE! Eat of me and swallow LIFE! I’ll lead you to the promised land.”
“Yes,” I told the sandwich, “I will follow you to the ends of the earth.”
Also, I had a Diet Coke.
This sandwich was like a pile of sandwich fixings had a three way with excellence and winning and gave birth to a high five in your mouth.
This sandwich is so divine, you might say to yourself, “Is that the image of God I see in its sandwichy folds?” No, you fool—there is no God but yourself. If you see anything in this sandwich it’s you, riding a unicorn while making out with a mermaid. In your left hand you grasp a magnificent sword and at the tip…a sandwich. Oh, and the unicorn and mermaid are made of sandwiches too.