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Our waitress is obviously new, she doesn’t know us, but we know the menu and she asks if we want one. We politely say we don’t need it, just bring us a monster please. A monster? Yes dear, a monster. Um, I’ll be right back. She comes back and says that will take 20 minutes. Again, yes dear, that’s fine, off she goes.
As we thaw out, you can tell she thinks 20 minutes to her must be a big deal, but after an entire morning of abysmal ice fishing for us, pre-sunrise to tingle footed frosted had enough, what’s another 20 minutes? We went all morning, four of us, without a single bite. Let me just tell you, we’re ready for a bite.
The first layer is a massive slice of toasted French bread bun, topped with a guaranteed two inches thick of sliced pastrami, pickled slaw, then a super gooey oniony sauce, next layer, another slice of toasted bun, two inches of sliced turkey, lemon mayo leaking sideways, lettuce tomato with crispy bacon slices easing out each four coordinates, then another slice of toasted bun, piled high with shaved medium rare roast beef, horseradish sauce, more tomatoes, more lettuce, all seated within a basket of onion rings, fries and chicken wings.
Leaning back after it was all over, a mental sting of not one bite, that full feeling of what a sandwich, we’re warm again. You coming tomorrow? Sure, wouldn’t miss it.
- The Trout Whisperer
