Science Can't Explain White Castle

WARNING! THIS GETS GROSS.

SCIENTISTS! i think you are right most of the time, but you have gotten one very important thing wrong: inanimate objects can be malicious. The other day i woke up and tried to get out of bed, but i was all wrapped up in my blanket... i think it was trying to constrict me or something. it took me a whole 2 minutes to fight my way out of it. I put that blanket down cause once a blanket has the taste for human flesh they never go back.

about a week ago i tried to answer my phone while sitting in a giant bean bag. The phone kept ringing (luckily i had a cool ringtone, Far Away from Wolfmother) and i grappled with my crinkled up pants pocket to get my phone out to answer the call. my pocket would not relinquish my phone. as i struggled against all the dubious forces of cloth and gravity the beanbag seemed to paralyze me with a very clever yet comfortable sleeper hold. i gradually sank deeper and deeper into the brown fabric of the love sack all the while struggling with all the heart Gordon Bombay taught me in Mighty Ducks 2 to wrestle my musical phone from my grabby pocket. i was being double teamed by two distinct, yet one in purpose, villainous cuts of clothe. needless to say i missed the call.

these are just two instances of inanimate objects rising up out of the darkness of the "unaware" to become "self-aware" and make my life miserable... but never before has there been an object to equal the white castle slider in the art of maliciously ruining ones day.

"Sliders": White Castle

F.A.L.C.O.N. Rating

0/10 falcons

my buddy chad and i were hungry in the borough of brooklyn. he lived near an old timey establishment known by most as white castle and known by the discerning as food hell. sadly, i had never heard much about white castle aside from the occasional, "those sliders are so small" or "oh, like harold and kumar...". so i went into my suggestion of "why dont we try white castle?" assuming one of two possibilities. 1) I would get to meet two ridiculous hollywood stereotypes that i had never had an interest in ever seeing in a movie (kumar is pretty good in House and Harold was pretty good as sulu) or 2) i would get to see some little sliders. neither happened, unless you want to call those food leprosy goblins that i ate that

night sliders.

we approached the white castle as happy as daffodils and did not read between the lines when we offered to buy a bum sitting outside the restaurant a slider from inside.

quickly the bum responded "no." we did not realize that what the bum was really saying was "I am starving. I smell like cat urine. i just pooped in public and people could see me and i didnt care. but you will never see me eating a white castle slider." chad and i, like trusty old dogs believing their owners aretaking them to the park when really they are being taken to be euthanized, walked headlong into an adventure that would quickly become as adventurous as gum cancer.

i bought three "sliders". they were small and they were cheap. i wanted to run the gamut on flavor so i ordered one regular "slider", one cheese

"slider", and one jalepeno "slider". what i got was one meat-sponge-soaked-in-the-tears-of-orphans, one protein-square-boiled-in-cirrhosis-of-the-liver, and one dirty-sanchez-deep-fried-in-broken-hearts. they should really change their menu so people actually know what they are buying.

i grabbed my meat-sponge-soaked-in-the-tears-of-orphans between my index finger and my thumb not expecting to be impressed but still with the hope that the food would be edible. i took my first bite... have you ever been

hit in the mouth with an aluminum baseball bat? my littlebrother did when he was like 5 or 6 and he nearly bit his tongue off... and i think i did when i bit into my "slider". I only took one bite. the protein square boiled in cirrhosis of the liver took a little longer to make me throw up in my mouth but proved to be strong in the clutch and nearly killed me in the 9th inning. again, one bite. the dirty-sanchez-deep-fried-in-broken-hearts was as amiable as al-qaeda. these "sliders" were trying to poison me and mr. white castle was going to let them do it. these "sliders" had somehow huddled together between the register and my table and decided on killing me on the spot. how could a place with a name as fortifying as white castle let wolves into the sacred den of dinner? shame on you mr. white castle, i dont know what kind of establishment you are running but i am afraid you are losing control and the "sliders" are running you.

for the love of everything that is holy, and for all future dinner arrangements, never go to white castle. if Job came to me and said "andy, you are an awesome guy. i have suffered more than all mortal men." i would have to ask "Job, have you tried the "sliders" at white castle". he might respond "no i haven't, andy". then i would simply state, "Job, you haven't suffered anything."

since this post was definitely a downer i want to end on a high note. can you get any higher than this?

A Fantabulous Night to Eat Sandwiches

My favorite musician is Van Morrison. i think i came to that realization about four months ago. I was all stoked on "tupelo honey" and "youre my woman" when i went to my sister joslyn's graduation from BYU Idaho. So, i was listening to my favorite Morrison songs while i was driving my family to dinner in idaho. let me take a minute to explain the day a bit--

I drove up from provo to idaho to see my sista graduate and hang with my family that had all showed up to celebrate the first graduate in our family (mom, she beat you by a few weeks, and jeff youre about as graduated as a killer whale is a whale ((they're not, everyone! they are dolphins!)), i guess kelly got her associates but i wont consider her graduate until she can cut my hair legally). Anyway, no one in my family had been in montecore yet (my car, named after the white tiger that mauled roy from the famous duo of sigfried and roy) so i took my family for a joy ride and we wound up driving to cafe rio where i paid homage to my car's namesake and mauled a burrito. this was an interesting experience since i dont think i had ever driven my dad anywhere. i wonder if he liked my driving...

--i digress. anyway, we listened to van morrison on the way. my dad was like "andy, i like your taste in music." then i promptly said "ya know, i just can't get enough of this guy's slurred lyrics and gravelly voice, one of the few musical personalities i feel ok singing to". then kelly, not wanting to seem un-cool said from the back seat "Dad, i liked Van Morrison way before Andy!" a conversation then ensued about how i had listened to the Van way back in high school but that it was mostly "brown eyed girl" and "moondance" and that she was still busy losing her soul to NSYNC back then. Anyways, this leads me to wonder, why does it matter who liked van morrison first, he is a classic... people have liked him since way before i was just a twinkle in my mom's eye.

Why couldn't kelly and i just realize that we were two of like a kabillion van morrison fans. it is because we always want to feel like we have found something new... that we are pioneers or something... like we are lewis and clark in the exploration of our own monroe doctrine... we are afrika bambaataa and the rest of the world is just simon and garfunkel or something. I'll relinquish my claim that i discovered Van Morrison because i can now replace it with a new doozey, i have discovered a rad sandwich place--Katz's Deli, and i found it first!

Pastrami Sandwich: Katz's Deli
F.A.L.C.O.N. Rating
9/10 falcons

This place was founded in 1888 and i dont understand how they could still be in business since i didn't discover them until 122 years later... and i found them first. i know you have never really heard of it before so let me help out their struggling business and tell you that their sandwiches are worth trying and they could definitely use your help to stay in business.

I went with my buddy chad. He got the Reuben (a sandwich that taught me the hard way that the sum can be less appetizing than the taste of its individual parts) and i got the pastrami. while you wait for them to make your sandwich they cut you a couple of pieces of meat to nibble on. when i put the pastrami in my mouth it seemed to disolve in my mouth it was so tender, like a meat alka seltzer tablet. the pastrami was like a miracle healing at a baptist church, cured to perfection.

The sandwich was simple enough in appearance, two pieces of rye containing some deli mustard and about two handfuls of meat heaven... i think they get katz's pastrami in apex predator heaven. Much like my previous pastrami sandwich that i blogged about from stage deli, this sandwich was massive and required some maneuvering to get it in my mouth. but once i did the meat just liquefied and made teeth nothing more than a luxury... i know a few hockey players that would have no trouble eating this sandwich.

this sandwich blew my mind into little tic tac sized bits. I dont think i have ever had pastrami quite like this (step aside togos #9, you have finally been dethroned in the a massive meat coup). I know i have made a fuss about how sandwiches need more than just meat, that it is a food of love and condiments, well this sandwich had all the love of a karate robot; replacing kisses on the cheek with drop kicks into blissful oblivion.

I know you have never heard of Katz's deli. I know the place is just trying to stay afloat since no one has ever been there before, but trust me, dont let the long lines trick you... this place is good. Try it out. In fact, it is so good that i was casually talking with chad through the internets trying to figure some things out on twitter when chad articulated something that had been on my mind everyday since our trip to katz's.I took the liberty to screen shot our conversation so you could see what im talking about. reading this chat message again i envision chad sitting on a mound of gold coins, like uncle scrooge from duck tails. His family, friends and like 500 coppers all shot to death at his feet and his life in shambles after years of drug trafficking and an addiction to gambling. He looks to a painting of his long dead, handsome, business partner (me) on his wall. a lonely tear forms in his left eye and he mutters under his breath "i want another katz sandwich" the movie then fades to black and you hear the voice of the dead business partner reply "me too..."... then the movie ends and the credits roll.

Katz's Deli, a real meat diamond in the rough.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY, KELLY!

Robert Green Should Catch this Sandwich

My mom likes watching star trek. i guess i need to specify that a bit, my mom liked watching star trek the next generation. she has a thing for bald guys with a ton of integrity. so, needless to say i got my fair share of space, the final frontier, growing up. and one thing that all these idealistic futures have in common is that earth is not broken up into little political factions. earth, joined by a common enemy (aliens) has somehow put aside thousands of years of differences and has created a global utopia. what a terrible idea.

THE WORLD CUP!
a competition of rivaling nations pitted together to fight with out arms on the pitch of history. no other competition in the world holds so much in the balance. just listen to the match-ups of this current world cup and look at it in a world history perspective. germany vs. england (battle of brittain, etc.). netherlands vs. denmark (i dont know much about their history, but i think they might be neighbors and i know they are european so chances are they hate eachother) . mexico vs. france (can anybody say francisco goya saw this coming?). and africa vs. any western country (do i even need to mention why africa should be mad at everybody?). would we really want to give up the world cup in exchange for peace. only a bunch of cat lovers would even have to think about that.

one of the best games in terms of high school world history was played a few weeks ago in the first round of games... USA vs. England. now that is a strong history cocktail: the stamp act, the burning of washington dc, us bailing england out of two world wars, monte python "and now for something completely different", etc. travesties, all of them. So, in order to celebrate the USA against England i decided to eat a sandwich... at a pub.

Liam's Pub and Restaurant: Club Sandwich
F.A.L.C.O.N. Rating
8/10 falcons

sometimes sandwiches are like cakes. i know if i were to say that to my sister, kelly, she would say "no way. no way no how. cake would kill sandwich with his bare hands". In fact, my level of obsession for sandwiches pales in comparison to kelly's love for cake. Any ways, sandwiches are like cakes. not all cakes taste great. and some very important cakes never taste good. I watch the next food network challenge fairly often and some of the cakes the people make look awesome, but probably taste like wet flour covered in play dough. ive had some wedding cakes that would make you wish you had just eaten a handful of thumb tacks. that being said, the bride and groom don't care how the cake tastes, they just got married and im sure that is all that matters. you see, cake is about as good as the situation. A great ice cream cake eaten all by yourself is just sad (unless you are liz lemon, then it is attractive), and a BP oil spill cake eaten by you and good company in outer space is awesome! sometimes sandwiches are like cakes.

the situation. U.S.A. beats england 1-1. we eventually win the group only to be beaten by our new rival and downright lousy country Ghana (back off PC police, it isn't a lousy country cause its in africa, its a lousy country because their red and yellow uniforms sucked). the ambiance in the pub that day, back to USA vs England, was amazing. in one corner we had captain america: a shirtless man with an american flag as a cape and a worn our straw cowboy hat covering a head full of obscenities. in the other corner their was king england, red and white face paint, all kinds of cool/articulate chants, and shirtless as well.

the company. In one corner we had katie: mild mannered girl, great smile, could kick it with the boys, and willing to listen to me act like an idiot while she probably knew more about soccer than i did. In the other corner we have trevor: anything but a mild mannered girl, he's a boy, and about as mild mannered as a cat in a washing machine. trevor, though eroneous in his world cup political affiliations, was good to have around cause he defintely knows more about soccer than me. over all, great company.

The sandwich. Katie and I were feeling a little hungry from all the freedom vs. tyranny on the tv, so we ordered an all american club sandwich. it was really good, especially considering we bought it at a bar (this pub might be a hidden gem, i took my friend oliver here a few weeks late and he had a hamburger and i had nachos... both were great as well). The bacon on the sandwich was crispy, the turkey had that authentic wet yet dry texture similar to that of a british comedy underwater, and the bread was toasted whole wheat delicious.

So, while i sat and watched the USA humiliate Robert Green and lay the ground work for a disappointing world cup for both countries, i ate a great sandwich. i dont even remember what it tasted like. just that it tasted like great company, and an awesome soccer game.

Just to finish. this has nothing to do with sandwiches, but check out my favorite subway mosaic. Its a bear wearing clothes. Hilarious. trust me.

The Best Sandwiches are Made With Love

I'm not going to apologize that it has taken me a few weeks to post another sandwich. and im definitely not going to apologize that after this post the last two posts will be about sandwiches outside of New York City. And im definitely not going to apologize that this post isn't about a sandwich place at all... its about a sandwich i ate at my house. My mom made it for me, and those are the best sandwiches of all.

Who here knows what Matriphagy is? if you knew anything about latin, which im assuming you don't cause that language is long dead, you would know that the Matri=mother and the phagy=eat. Yep, thats right, matriphagy means mother eat. let me tell you about a cool insect: the Japanese Foliage Spider. The mother foliage spider lays its eggs, then chills there waiting for the babies to hatch. Once the babies hatch she shows how cool of a mom she is and lets her kids eat her. In some studies once the eggs were laid the mama spiders were taken out of the cage and the babies were left to fend for themselves. The babies hatched and they turned out to be little nerd spiders, with no social skills. Mom's are important.

Luckily i didn't need to eat my mom to be cool. But sometimes she does make cool things for me to eat. My mom graduated from college a couple of weeks ago and my dad flew me home from New York as a surprise and an answer to my mom's prayers (you're welcome mom). I had a ball. And i had an awesome sandwich.

Mom: Pastrami on Dutch Crunch
F.A.L.C.O.N. Rating
10/10 Falcons

If you follow this blog carefully i recommend you find something better to do with your time and i really have nothing to say to you. However, if you read this blog from time to time and mix in a few other activities between blog reads then i recognize your value as a human being and would like to impart one bit of advice to you. In the ash austen post i did about a month ago i mentioned that something special has to happen to a sandwich that goes beyond just ingredients that makes it a good sandwich... kind of like a sandwich synergy... the sum is greater than the value of the individual parts or whatever that crazy talk is all about. i think i heard it on a movie once. anyways, the best thing to add to a sandwich isn't honey mustard, it is love.

Victor Hugo once said about love, "The first symptom of love in a young man is shyness; the first symptom in a woman, it's boldness." and the first symptom in a sandwich, bosanova. A sandwich saran wrapped in love is like any thing covered in fairy dust. The value of the thing inside the fairy dust doesn't even get addresses, im touching that fairy dust regardless. a poop wrapped in fairy dust? yeah, i'd touch that and fly all over this world not even caring that i just touched some poop. a love sandwich is much the same way.

so, lets get down to the ingredients. The sandwich had a healthy helping of deli cut pastrami. That king of meats was then crowned with wedges of the freshest californian avocados like green smiles on the faces of ethipian kids who just got rootbeer floats. Then, leafs of romain lettuce that hold their value better than million dolla billz. The tomatoes, like red moons, anouncing the fruit apocolypse that is about to take place in my mouth. Onions... like zues's rings thrown down to the mortals in the ultimate act of one-up-manship to show up Prometheous and his fancy thing called fire. Somewhere in the sandwich their is space for chedda sharper than triumph the insult comic dog. Light on the mayo. All these little treasure fit for a king are then magically organized and placed in the ducth crunch manila envelope soon to be filed away in the filing cabinet of my stomach and the "fond-memories" section of my brain bank.

But what is so special about getting into my stomach and brain? Banans get into my stomach and mathmagic stuff gets in my brain sometimes. What makes this sandwich so special. It is love that forms the trifecta. Stomach, mind, and heart. If you don't feel the sandwich in your heart then the best you can hope for is a good sandwich. Once the sandwich burns in your chest like patriotism then you know your mom made it for you. then you know that you mom didn't necessarily let you eat her, but she will let you eat her sandwich.

Philla Buster Delphia, Jay Zandwich Style

So, i started writing this blog while listening to cat stevens, it was a little too sappy and weird, so i started over and decided my writing soundtrack needed a little more edge. Let's see what Jay Z inspires me to write.

So, this past weekend i had a life changing vacation. have you ever thought how crazy it would be if you choked to death on a diamond the size of a soft ball? thats kind of what happened to me this weekend. imagine, something so awesome as having a diamond that size, and then it ruins your life... to death... crazy. this weekend the croquet diamond was a vacation to philly and the choking to death was my outlook on life: thats a metaphore!

i spent the memorials daze weekend with my buddy chad and some huneeeez from the advertising program at chads humble pennsylvanian home. it was fantastic. fantastic in the more literal use of the word, not just cool but tolkien style magical. too fantastic maybe. all the good will i had built up for the city of new york was quickly obliterated by the smell of trees, grass, and not sewage/night garbage piles. sorry chad, your goodwill was a detriment to your crusade to get me to live in the big apple. now i wont be content with anything other than a lot of green in my pocket and a lot of green in my lawns.

We took a bus there. it took about two hours or so cause the traffic was so bad. the ride itself was semi-uneventful, which was perfect cause i was able to nap a bit and sleep through New Jersey (sorry Nevada, i still consider you the armpit of the united states even now after going through jersey) which was needed.

I can't go into too much detail about the trip, as inigo montoya once said "let me 'splain, no that take too long, let me sum up...". so, here we go, try to keep up. this is what happened in phillthy (as i like to call it. and that's ironic cause i actually really liked the city. english lesson right theres, you're welcome) was this: USA beats some Turks and i was there, fireflies and i was there, shish kabobs and i was there, wilderness preserves and i was there, frog hunts and slipping into mud bogs and i was there, girl almost poops her pants (Computer Graphics, you know who you are) cause she was so scared of night deer and i was there, 1000 degrees celcious dominated by a sweet hammock nap and i was there, natures and trees and stuff and i was there, etc. and i was there.

so, look forward to the movie cause some day im sure mr. abrams will pick this vacation up and make it into either an awesome scifi movie throw back or a lame monster movie that gets people thowing up.

So, philly (and i keep acting like a fool and calling it philly cause i have no clue how to spell philidelfya and im too lazy to write it out wrong and spell check it) was awesome, and it provided a young sandwich man the opportunity to participate in something bigger than even him, even bigger than adam richman and much bigger than boys II men (philly natives by the way, not adam though, just the men boys). what could be bigger than these folks? a culinary rivalry more complex than onions, deeper in tradition than bread roles, meatier than meat, and thicker than cheez wiz... thats right-- CHEESE STEAKS!

Pat's King Of Steaks: Cheese Steak
F.A.L.C.O.N. Rating
8/10 Falcons

There is something deliciously simple about a cheese steak. I mean you have things like: jello, pudding, tucanos cheese balls, almond roca, and trident layers: delicious food with all kinds of smart science behind it. then, you have a jeremiah johnson type food (no science needed, just plain crazy good) like the philly cheese steak that says "dear people, im just some bread, some meat and some onions. and to make this even easier for you i wont even slice my cheese! Forgeda bout it!" dont know if the "forgeda bout it" is really philly-ish, but i threw it in there anyways. my AD, Ben, says its more yorkie than philthy, but i dont care (wow, Jay Z is really brining out the edge. i do what i want now). anyways, the cheese steak= battle axe of foods: chops wood and gets the job done right.

Pat's was an important choice. for those of you entrenched in sandwich lore, like myself, you know that there are really only two cheese steak places on (cue sigourney weaver) planet earth. Pat's and Geno's. The cool thing is in deciding which one to visit proximity is a non issue, they are right across the street from eachother. so, in deciding which side to join i asked chad (philly native, childhood friend of boys II men) which one we should go to. emphatically he said pat's. so we went to pat's.

How was the sandwich? lets just say i kill pat's cheese steaks like aids! It was delicious. the only strike against it was that i feel they may have put too many onions in there. my breathe is still trying to recover from a massive bite i took and came away with nothing but layered complexity. i had no clue ogres could do such damage to your breathe. Computer Graphics tried to kiss me but i was like "hold on. is my breathe as bad as yours?". it was.

Initially i was a little skeptical of the cheese wiz, but let me tell you: the dorothy's got nothin on this wiz. i think the cheese made the sandwich. i mean, look at that picture. look at the cheese. thats fizzy lifty drink sandwich style, folks!

I did give geno's a try. chad splurged and ate his pat's then walked across the street and got a geno's. he was gentlmanly enough to give me a bite. pretty good. not nearly as gnarly. provolone instead of wiz and tidiness instead of controlled chaos. i think we made the right choice.

Ash Austen: the Hippie Beast

Lets just put it this way: sometimes i like to go my own way (inspired by fleetwood mac). going your own way involves a level of risk and disappointment. for instance, when looking for places to eat sandwiches sometimes i go my own way, or in other words go out on a whim and find a place on my own with little or no advice or direction from anybody. sometimes it pays off. you find a gem that no one has ever heard of before. however, sadly, sometimes you get the steak truck.

The Steak Truck: Cheese Steak, visited 5/11/010
F.A.L.C.O.N. Rating
2/10 falcons (wouldnt it be cool if i had some kind of graphic here?)

the steak truck is nothing more than a truck that sells steak, and before i talk about their sandwich i want to applaud them for being honest and not embellishing what kind of a business they are running.
Ok, if you are looking for a good ash sandwich in new york then the steak truck is what you are looking for. when i took a bite into my philly cheese steak i was like, "this is some awesome ash! i love ash sandwiches!" the sandwich turned my tongue into a pompeii victim which, by the way, has always been a lunch goal of mine. and if you have similar goals then come on down to the steak truck and cross "eat a charcoal sandwich" off your list. for people who dont have goals that involve eating pumice, if you do go to the steak truck dont ask for the hot sauce. im surprised i didn't get a pulmonary infection from this sandwich.

Food Merchants: Turkey Sandwich, visited 5/14 /010
F.A.L.C.O.N. rating
3/10 falcons

I walk by this place every morning on my way to work. there is a sign outside that has a delicious pasta shown on it and it says "build your own pasta". the pasta in the picture looks like it has some garlic olive oil sauce, sun dried tomatoes, and in my minds eye i also remember there being something green in it like broccoli or peas. anyway, it looks delicious. so, one day i said to myself, "that pasta looks good. im gonna get a sandwich there." this brings me to a corollary i like to call "the chicken heart corollary". it goes something like this: just because the garlic sirloin at a place tastes like the cure for cancer that doesn't mean that the chicken heart is gonna taste like anything other than a gross chicken heart. in this case: just because the pasta bar looks good that doesn't mean that the sandwiches are going to be any good.

the turkey sandwich was not bad... it just wasn't good. it was like eating a water sandwich, or air sandwich, or something boring like that... it was like eating a pride and prejudice sandwich. it had its turkey, it had its tomato, it had its lettuce, it had its onion, it had its cheddar cheese (by the way, someone should tell new york that american cheese is not cheddar cheese), what it lacked was a john hancock... some kind of signature flavor that sets it apart from just a turkey sandwich. in the mathematics of sandwiches something special should happen. bread+ turkey+ condiments= something greater than bread+ turkey+ condiments. if you didn't understand that equation it means you have either never taken a math class before or you have never eaten a sandwich. at food merchants all you had was: ingredients+ bread= organized ingredients in bread. the sandwich did not taste as good as the pasta looked, but atleast it didn't taste like a lava rock.


Some Street Cart: Falafel "Sandwich", visited 5/17/010
F.A.L.C.O.N. Rating
5/10 falcons

first off, calling this a sandwich is debatable. personally i would call it some kind of pita or taco, but the vendor called it a sandwich so i decided to put it in the blog anyway. second off, i had never tried falafel before, nor did i even know what falafel was (talk about going your own way). so, for those of you who dont know what it is i did a lot of research on the subject and found this cool website called wikipedia. this is what wikipedia said about falafel, "Falafel ; Arabic: فلافل‎, Egyptian, and Sudanese Arabic: طعمية ta'miyya) is a fried ball or patty made from ground chickpeas and/or fava beans." and im totally cool with whatever chickpeas or fava beans are because they tasted pretty good. maybe its because they were fried?

im not kidding, the falafel was good. the vendor whipped me up this sandwich that had the falafels, cucumber, lettuce, tomatoes, and onions and some kind of yogurt sauce. the only real problem with this sandwich was the produce, it didnt seem very fresh.

after eating the falafel sandwich i immediately felt a close tie with the nature around me. i wanted to go to burning man or something. i wanted to protect a tree in danger like a mother bear protects her cubs. i immediately grew a beard and smelled like a woolly mammoth with body odor. it was happening... i was becoming some kind of radical vegan hippie . this is one of the side effects of eating and enjoying falafel. but, luckily, i realised just in time that i was eating from a street vendor and chances were he had fried the falafel in some kind of animal oil. upon realising this my mammoth stink was gone, my beard burned right off my face, and i reasoned that burning man is a dumb celebration after all. some tree in trouble will die alone tonight.

Stage Deli: The Eye of the Meat Storm

Stage Deli: Pastrami Sandwich, visited 5/5/010
F.A.L.C.O.N. Rating
7/10 falcons


stage deli is everything i feel we have rejected in the west. it is a high class deli (delicatessen is what they call them here) where people go and spend more money on a sandwich than canada does on homeland security. the waiters (thats right, its a sit down sandwich place, weird) are dressed in the same uniforms that their serving forefathers did fifty years ago and they treat their patrons like idiots. kind of a working class snobbery that dickens eloquently called the "bully of humility". In fact, if this blog rated sandwiches based on service i think i would have to give this place 0/10 falcons.

However, i try to make this blog about the sandwiches. the experience is ancillary to the taste. i mean, c'mon, they're sandwiches, i'll probably eventually blog about a sandwich that i get from coney island from some circus freak who toasts his sandwiches quizno's style by shooting laser beams out of his eyes and stabbing a sword through it. the sandwich comes first, i have always regarded my sandwich integrity as one of my finer qualities.

so, i was referred to this sandwich place by a website that rated the best pastrami sandwiches in new york. it was #4 on the list of 10 sandwiches. pastrami has always been one of my favorite sandwich meats (the #9 at togos still holds a magical place in my upbringing) so i decided to order the sandwich that put this place on the map. I ordered the pastrami.

WARNING: if you are reading this blog and (saddly) taking my advice on sandwich places you should actually eat at in new york then i think you should hear this before i move on. as i said before, this is all about the taste of the sandwich and no other factor goes into my F.A.L.C.O.N. rating system. not even $$$ price. so let me tell you, this sandwich is expensive. looking back at it i feel like an absolute sucker for paying as much as i did for this sandwich. i am even too embarrassed to tell you how much it was. lets put it this way, you can see the menu on the internet... guess what you dont see on that menu. so, just so you know, this sandwich is literally worth its weight in gold. END WARNING.

So, i got the pastrami. notice how i did not tag the word "sandwich" onto the word "pastrami" in the last sentence, yeah, that was by design. the "sandwich" was more like the meat library of alexandria held together by two rye bookends. In fact, as i held the half sandwich in my had it reminded me of the red storm that has been brewing on jupiter for the past million years. it intimidated me a little.

there i was, looking into the pastrami abyss. it looked back. sized me up. it either winked or began to cry, i couldn't tell. then it began to sing to me in a seductive, african american voice. it went something like this, "I ain't gonna worry, I ain't gonna push, won't push you [andy], So c'mon, c'mon, c'mon, c'mon, c'mon, [andy], stop beatin' 'round the bush." i took that as a dare.

the sandwich was too big for mouth. some animals have the ability to unhinge their jaws in order to fit their mouths around large objects, i think mankind was lucky to not get that in the evolution lottery. could you imagine how many fatalities we would have from people seeing how many marshmallows or carrots they could wedge into their faces? I digress. Anyway, the sandwich was too big for me to put into my mouth so i had the go at an angle, much like trying to move a sofa through a hallway and into a small room, it took some maneuvering.

the pastrami was amazing... like brined world peace. this may sound drug induced but i really felt like i had followed a rainbow to its end and found a jewish leprechaun standing over his pot of gold. he beckoned me to come forward and accept my price. i approached and instead of a pot of cold he had a pot filled with pastrami. i reached both hands into the pot, made a snowball like orb of salty meat and took a bite as big as my body allowed me. then i think the leprecohen gave me a high five or something, i dont remember.

the pastrami was amazing, the sandwich was good. i am one of those guys who loves meat, but i feel meat need a team. i feel that a good sandwich is more like a basketball team than a tennis star. You may have a star player, but no matter how good andrei kirilenko is he will never be able to defend five guys all on his own. the andrei kirilenko team would get last place every year. this sandwich needed some supporting characters. maybe a little tomato and lettuce. and maybe a little bread.