#letterstononone: Dear Best Sandwich of My Life
Dear Top 5 Sandwich of My Life,
I bought you from a coupla Italians in Park Slope, Brooklyn. You were item number 14 on the sandwich board and you caught my eye. You were an unconventional beauty, always hanging in the shadows of the parmigianas, roast beef, pastrami and reubens of the world.
You didn't open up easily. I had to tear away many layers of waxed paper before you revealed your true self.
Cured for many months in the garage of the nonno of a friend of a friend of a friend. Or wait, was it the garage of the twice removed cousin of that celebrity chef on the Lifestyle Channel? Either way, you spent a lot of time hanging out in someone's garage crying salty tears. This mild trauma made you resilient, it made you the ultimate deli cut.
San Daniele is your name.
On this particular Fall day in NYC, you were served in a crunchy ciabatta roll with a balsamic glaze, seven layers of provolone heaven and roasted peppers bathed in garlic so strong I could have sent morse code with my breath back to Australia.
Our first and last date was on a stoop. It was a fleeting love and one I won't soon forgot. As quick as our romance began, you were diminishing. There was only half of you left.
I was compelled to tell you how I felt and said: Close your eyes, give me your hand, darlin'. Do you feel my heart beating? Do you understand? Do you feel the same? Am I only dreaming? Is this burning an eternal flame?
You said: No honey, it's indigestion.
Lisa Marie Corso xo