My Quest for the Perfect Sandwich

Endless driving to fulfill that craving for just the right sandwich. The Tuesday after the Fourth weekend. Hmmm. Lunchtime. Call Sparkytown, answering machine, must be closed. It was closed on Monday. I drive by and it is open but looks crowded. Don’t want to wait. Gentile’s is serving lunch now, why not check out their menu to go go go. Park in back of restaurant and walk around to front. From the corner I could see the sign on the door. I knew. On closer inspection, Gentiles closed for extended holiday. Getting frustrated. I drive to Asti’s to see what is on the sandwich board. Sounds good. Capicolla and cheese. Chicken parmesan sandwich. I am thinking I want turkey and maybe ham though. Not a big Italian sandwich. Walk a little farther down the street, same block, to oh I can’t remember the name of the restaurant but I did have good fried haddock sandwich there once. I walk into the cool air conditioning and grab a menu. Typical looking sandwiches. Afraid they might be boring. Must have zip, zang, tang. Is it a full moon? Wait! Poppy Garden Café. Boar’s head ham on rye. Done. I arrive at Clinton Street and the Poppy Garden is closed. I mean I think permanently closed. I did not get out of the car to read the handwritten sign on the door, but had a feeling it wasn’t just a vacation note. I don’t know what to do now. Lao Village? Not exactly a sandwich joint. I have to stick to my original mission, otherwise I may face utter culinary or cosmic disappointment. Dinosaur. Grilled chick sand. Diablo? Cajun? Two sides. Yeah, get platter. So my dear reader. I ordered a Diablo Chicken Sandwich with a side of black beans and rice and coleslaw. (Is there Dino BBQ sauce in the coleslaw? Tastes like it.) My long-awaited sandwich. Not turkey. Not ham. But bi bim bap, wowza! And all packed in the most adorable Dinosaur BBQ to-go bag. I left there swinging my purchases in my lil bag. A happy girl. Wee, wee, wee all the way home.