Sandwich, deconstructed

All I’d wanted was a dirty Grilled Cheese Sandwich. With salami, and cucumber, And a slick of bad mayonnaise. On buttered rye bread. Extremely UN-extraordinary, but I’m a FOOD BLOGGER now, which means EVERY SINGLE culinary event shall be henceforth considered (well, an Event, as well as) an Opportunity for learning how all of these buttons work, however haphazardly.


I decided to take the hot thing out of the pan with my BARE HANDS, fully aware of its Hot-Thing-Ness but with persistent delusions towards invincibility, and having a fatal aversion to spatulas. I Did Not drop the camera. So really, this is a story of Triumph. But it is also a story in which a sandwich did not get et, so.


Emotions. Post-modern, post-edible.


“Stop feeding the floorboards!”, said the Bavarian, crawling on the floor laughing.

Good news though: Germany, as a nation, is slowly discovering grilled cheese sandwiches as a food group. Recently, I’ve seen them popping up in German food blogs, their virtues extolled, described as ‘Food for the depressed!’ Accurately too, I suppose. For there’s little more comforting than Melted Cheese. Think: Käsespätzle, oh my god. Yes. Look at that.


We’re going to have words about this later. It’s very important. But for now:

Let us from this day forth continue to support the Sandwich in its infiltration of the German food scene, one buttered flop at a time. Greasy fingers and melted hearts for all. I shall continue also to advertise my failings! I cannot say that this is the MOST thoughtless and/or foolish thing I’ve done of late, to be sure. It’s in the spirit of good humour and splendid human error, which are either necessary or inevitable.

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