I am totally into food. I love eating so much that I'm going on a diet again. (Ben & Jerry's and an injury don't give one a food-rationed 1940's figure.) When Andrew wants to get me to go to some strange event, he knows to present me with a menu of what they have to offer. If I watch something on PBS about a local eatery and the food interests me, I find an excuse to go there to sample their wares.
Earlier this year, a new sandwich place opened up across the street from my office. My co-worker and I watched with great anticipation as they made daily progress on their renovations, waiting for the "open" sign. I've given them several chances to be as awesome as I had hoped.
My first trip was a take-out call for a grilled cheese sandwich. They said it would be 20 minutes. I crossed the street after 20 minutes, and I waited around an extra 25 minutes for the food to be ready. It's grilled cheese, people. The cheese wasn't totally melted after all that. Oh, and they put mayonnaise on it. I'm offended by mayonnaise. In fact, I don't understand why it's supposed to be the most amazing sandwich spread ever. But I digress.
My second trip was a take-out call for a pastrami sandwich and an Italian cold cut sandwich. The paper take-out menu I got from them weeks before mentioned that they put mustard on the pastrami sandwich. Andrew doesn't like dripping mustard on his clothes when he eats and drives. They told me 15 minutes, Andrew showed up to get the food 30 minutes after I placed the order and wound up standing around for 15 minutes. I asked them to hold the mustard. Instead, they put mustard on the insides of both pieces of bread.
Two months passed and I thought I'd give them another shot. I checked their updated online menu to be sure I knew what the hell was going to be on my sandwich. I ordered a grilled cheese again. I added five minutes to the wait time they gave me, then headed across the street to find my sandwich hot and ready. Good on them. Of course, they slathered it with mayonnaise. Maybe they should've listed that on their online menu.
And two more months have passed. Since I'm dieting soon, I thought I'd get in a sandwich with rich cured meats. The online menu was updated so I read the entry carefully. Hmmm. The sandwich I wanted listed three kinds of cured meat, two kinds of cheese, balsamic vinaigrette and red pepper pesto. That sounded perfect. I ordered, gave them a couple extra minutes, crossed the street and picked up my sandwich. It was hot and ready. It wasn't slathered in mayonnaise. Instead, there was a black olive paste slathered all over the inside of the sandwich. I eat olive oil but I don't eat olives. Who thought this was a good substitution? If this is the way they now make the sandwich, maybe they should put that on the website. I had to scrape the olive stuff off my warm cheese so I could eat this $9 ridiculousness.
I may have to drown my sorrows in gelato.