THERE WAS A TIME, LONG SINCE PASSED, when I measured my life’s good moments by club sandwiches. It was my favorite treat, and healthy to boot. No eating establishment could be classified as decent unless their menu included a good club sandwich. “A club sandwich, please,” I would tell the waitress, “on lightly toasted white bread.” Being a club sandwich aficionado, I looked down on hamburger people. That was too plebeian, too common. There was one of those Forties era drug stores near my house in Miami, the kind with a long lunch counter and stools, that had a great club sandwich. I would save money from my paper route earnings and, when I had something to celebrate – if I didn’t have anything special, I’d invent something – I’d go there and, affecting my best grown up countenance, order myself a club sandwich. The gal behind the counter got to know me. I was maybe twelve years old, and so I flirted with her in my awkward, pre-pubescent way. She humored me, of course, and even teased me a little bit, which set off the sort of fantasies that could even overcome the memory of a good club sandwich. In my memory now, warped and distorted over time, I think that she bore a striking resemblance to Elizabeth Taylor. Memory is such a crucial instrument of personal comfort and survival.
Well, I hate to burst your bubble Henry, but calling a club sandwich 'healthy' may be a stretch! I mean, who needs three pieces of bread? And white bread at that! Three different kinds of meat seems a little over the top and ham and bacon are both processed meats, not good! The tomato and lettuce may be the sandwich's only redeeming quality! I grew up eating a lot of stuff that we now know is not that good for us. Sometimes I think I'm still around in spite of the diet I had, not because of it!
Terry
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Like you say, my dear, we eat a lot of crapola 'cause it tastes good, irrespective of the lack of nutritional value. I suppose my reference to club sandwiches as being healthy was an example of grading on the curve. Perhaps I ought to try downing those wonderful Twizzlers with lettuce and tomato.
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Love them clubs, no tomatoes. Extra meat, please... Another to try to my growing allowed list...
Oh, yeah, that should ease your conscience! And maybe I'll have a glass of carrot juice with my piece of chocolate cake tonight!