A Distinctive Flavor
I went to the local sandwich shop near my house to have some lunch.
The lady in front of me ordered a sandwich with all the toppings. Let's see: lettuce, tomato, onion, black olives, spinach, jalapenos, banana peppers, and pickles. With salt and pepper, of course.
Dressing? Honey mustard, oil and red wine vinegar, ranch, and several others. I couldn't even keep up anymore.
Oh, and turkey and provolone was the base.
When she walked out, I turned to the three guys working and said, "Okay, so tell me this: what flavor does she taste when she takes the first bite?"
They all burst out laughing. One threw up his hands and said, "That's the question nobody can answer."
It was a zen koan in a sandwich.
Now I can't stop thinking about the dominant flavor out of that mass of toppings and dressings. If every flavor was a country, it'd be like having the United Nations in your mouth. Which country would emerge?
Obviously, the next step is for me to order a sandwich with everything on it, so I can figure it out for myself. I can't do mustard, oil and vinegar, and ranch, though. That's a bridge too far.
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