This Sandwich Will Outlive Us All.
HONEST TO GOODNESS — Texan Beef on Cheese & Onion Brown Bread — 2/5
Quality of ingredients: meh . Taste: meh . Value for money: meh . Portion size: Average
Last night, I accidentally took part in a pub quiz. It was really fun, and either my capacity for general knowledge is better than I thought, or all the local neighbourhood quizzers aren’t that bright, because we came in 4/40. Three points off first place? Ya know your girls got her neurons firing.
All that mental exertion meant this morning I woke up with a hunger. Mental exertion and possibly, the wine that accompanied it. As I arrived in work, I remembered the days before the “I’m going on RTE” fear — light salads and tofu for days. Now, it’s getting colder, there’s no imminent television appearances planned and warm winter jumpers mean rounded tummies can be satisfied and hidden until next Springtime.
In the spirit of trying new things, I decided to give an Honest To Goodness sandwich a go. Texan beef, with cheese, BBQ sauce and lettuce on cheese and onion brown bread. Sounds healthy, and by “healthy” I mean “will help contribute to my winter layer of flub to protect against the cold”.
Unfortunately when the sandwich arrived, I realised I’d made a huge mistake. No other sandwiches look as dry and weird as Honest to Goodness sandwiches. I’ve glanced with pity at others when I’ve seen them with them. Maybe I just hang out with people with big hands, but they always looked pale and small. Disappointing. The sandwich equivalent of a blind date, where you can’t help but have big expectations, and then someone… well… someone perfectly feasible turns up, but you know it isn’t the one.
This sandwich was not the one.
I tried to salvage the situation by firing up the George Foreman. The bread, so thick and dry, was nigh-on impervious to applied heat and while the lettuce within shrivelled and moved onward to the realm of green goop and death, the bread remained resolutely untoasted. Twinkies, cockroaches and Honest to Goodness bread. These are the things that will survive our eventual nuclear end.
The final result was still saucy, but yet dry. I love a sandwich that presents me with a fundamental paradox, and makes me question everything I believe in. How could this sandwich be saucy and dry? That bread, man. I could feel my skin ageing just by being near it, such was its capacity to soak up any moisture near it, and destroy it.
If you have any shred of self respect, avoid this. You deserve better.
An Aside With Maeve — Thoughts On A Bad Sandwich/Dealing with Disappointment