Note: If you haven’t read the previous post “Slap Yo’ Mamma,” you’re going to be confused… you’ve been warned…
So my brothers were in town this weekend. We spent quite the quality family time together. Translation: epic Words With Friends tournament/battleground (…103 points for “farouche” …oh yeah.) There’s nothing like sitting around the living room with your family with everyone glued to his or her iPad, laptop, smartphone, or what have you, yelling out such encouraging remarks as, “Two letters gets you 45 points??!! You stink!!” or, “How is THAT a word!!” or better yet, “You can’t ask MOM! That’s cheating!” …good times, good times.
In betwixt the wild sesquipedalian antics, I showed my brother my blog. I pulled it up on his iPad and twiddled my thumbs nervously while he read it. I looked over his shoulder as he perused the first two posts.
“Well, I hope you got that shipping worked out. I want my present.”
Then, the jewel of my witty intellect, “Slap Yo’ Mamma.” He read…and scrolled…and read. I waited for laughter…a chuckle?…a smile??
“So what happened?” he asked.
“What do you mean, what happened?? We went to the deli, then I wrote this hilarious, insightful post about it. It’s funny. Maybe you didn’t read it right.”
“No, I mean what happened with the sandwiches. I read this whole thing waiting for you to tell me about the food, and you never did.”
“Yes I did. I said I mixed the condiments!”
“That doesn’t count. You have to talk about the food.”
“Whatever. And ‘farouche’ is not a word.”
…then we continued with our *ahem* polite discussion of word game polity.
But he was right. I didn’t talk about the sandwiches. And since he’s my favorite brother (don’t tell the others), ergo, here we go:
Like I said before: I’m extremely particular when it comes to sandwiches. That doesn’t mean they have to be pristine squares of perfectly aligned meats and breads, though. I like sloppy sandwiches. There. It’s out. I admit it. I like wilted lettuce, oozing mayonnaise, and dripping tomatoes. I like melted cheese and barbecue sauce that slides out onto the wrapper so that you scoop it up with the next messy bite. I like swirling greasy grilled cheese in syrup and licking the sticky goodness off my fingers.
But I do not like soggy bread. (Had to draw the line somewhere. A gal’s gotta have SOME standards!)
Apparently, Momma Goldberg’s is home to the steamed sandwich. I didn’t know that until I looked them up online to check out what really was supposed to be in that Bull Rider sandwich. And, in case you weren’t paying attention in physics class, steaming a sandwich makes the bread soggy …now you know.
But in spite of the soggy bread, the sandwiches really weren’t that bad. I would have preferred real roast beef on mine instead of the “lunch meat” stuff, but I’m ok with that for now. I’m waiting to try the Reuben before I pass judgment for good. …I wonder if they’ll give it to me without steaming it. Maybe I’ll ask that polite young man…