The art of the sandwhich

 "It is said that without the culinary arts, the crudeness of reality would be unbearable."- Leopold, from Kate and Leopold

I typically relate things that occur AFTER the sun goes down but today, my time alone most interesting  was this afternoon.

I needed some food to carry me through the end of the semester when these "adventures" will end. Publix, where shopping is truly a pleasure, was beckoning.

Ok so first I have to point out one of those things that we all see but never comment on. So this man wearing a track suit was walking into Publix carrying some of those big water jugs. Bless his heart, his track suit was just a little too tight and it was obvious the poor thing had a wedgie. My heart really went out to him. I couldn't help but notice and I felt like I needed to tell somone but I could never bring myself to say that to somone in person.
Ok, I've released that. *Exhale* the air is clear.

So, unfortunately, in grad school your health becomes a casualty. You are stressed, you aren't getting enough sleep or exercise and most meals consist of a drive-through window. You don't get to eat that at home though, dining on the go becomes a way of life. I considered this as I walked into Publix. Tired of meals being only fuel of my stressed existence, I considered what non-pre-packaged delight I might indulge in. ( I should mention I had not yet eaten today).

As I entered the store, past the wedgie-man, a lovely scent of fresh-baked yum surrounded me. I made my way to the bakery where trays of lovely were being pulled from the oven. Bread. Lovely, not-a-bun, bread with textures and flavors. I fended off the older ladies hovering over said loveliness long enough to snatch some croissants before they formed an arm-to-cart barricade in front of me.

So I made my way over to the deli, considering my selection carefully. Roast beef and creamy Asiago? No, not today. I have a special gift of knowing, without tasting, how two foods or flavors will go together. I do it from taste-bud memory. That's what comes of NOT eating your dinner one thing at a time. The art of the meal is the harmony of the flavors. I rolled each imagined flavor around in my mouth before settling on spiced roasted chicken and smoked gouda. Lovely. I anticipated the triumph of my sandwich as I made my way back to my car.

It was just a great as I predicted!The spice of the chicken, the creamy smokeyness of the cheese, the flakey buttery-ness of the croissant.  But nothing is more pathetic than eating lovely alone. Thankfully my friend came by and I offered her half of my sandwich. You see, the art of the sandwich is making something so admirable it begs to be shared.  Consider how many times Cliff Huxtable, thinking he was alone, made a world-class hoagie, only to have to share it with his crumb-snatching offspring.

Cooking alone is an adventure (especially for me!) but eating alone is pitiful. What is the point of creating art if no one is around to enjoy it? Sandwhich art (is there another?) was meant to be appreciated.

"All anyone really wants in this life is to sit in peace and eat a sandwich. ..."- Liz Lemon (my hero!)