Best. Sandwich. Ever.
Mexican delis make sandwiches so bonkers delicious, they could pull people back from the brink of suicide or solve all the world's problems by showing up at the UN and saying, "Eat me... and be healed." They're called "tortas," which is a word that I believe translates into English as "your mouth will be destroyed by my awesomeness, you lucky bastard; get ready for it... brace yourself... TASTY, ALL UP IN YOUR FACE!!!" Or something, I don't really speak Spanish. But, yeah, let me tell you what went into this motherfucker, and then into my mouth, and then into my belly where it made my guts happy to be alive like a crackhead that found religion in prison.
The Sandwich of Glory and Light: An Ingredient-by-Ingredient Examination
-The meat was pounded-out cube steak, seasoned, breaded, and fried, sort of like a chicken-fried steak but without the cream gravy. Can you imagine?!?! That, on a sandwich, and with all the other crap I haven't even told you about yet. It was like winning a raffle where first prize was having your mind blown clean out of your skull.
-The sandwich had refried beans on it. What? Exactly. REFRIED BEANS. Smeared on like whoa, casual-like, as if they do this sort of thing all the time on Planet Earth. Mars, maybe, or out in the moons that circle Jupiter, but here that's some next-level, Nobel Prize-worthy work in the field of condiment application.
-Then there was homemade guacamole. That's like a girl wearing high heels to bed; how are you supposed to compete with that? At that point, the sandwich could have taken my wallet and I would have been like, "hey that's cool can I have another bite of you before you run off with my credit cards, you beautiful sandwich god you're amazing... (drool)..."
-Lettuce & tomato... okay, lettuce & tomato aren't all that exciting. Still, though, they were very fresh and roughly chopped and there weren't so many that they overwhelmed the sandwich or anything. Just enough.
-Onions, fried in what tasted like adobo-spiked butter. Sweet weeping Jesus, I'm only a man. I'm weak. You're killing me over here.
-Sour cream and some sort of Mexican cheese, because this sandwich wasn't fatty enough with the thick, fried meats and all the butter and grease that comes along with that. There needs to be two additional sources of creamy fats to blast it into the stratosphere where the heart attack angels live and dance and play.
-Pickled jalapenos and homemade salsa topped the whole thing off like a crown forged from the depths of hell. So spicy, but full of flavor that could sever your head if you don't keep an eye on it.
-And all this came together on a toasted hoagie roll the size of a fire extinguisher. For $5... five American dollars for the greatest thing since liquor to pass these lips in 28 years. The deal of the century? Fuck your century... the deal of the millennium. Possibly the deal of the epoch. I now have to eat as many of these as I can because I'm convinced that the little Mexican deli is going to go out of business or get struck by a tornado made of lightning and the Ebola virus because the laws of nature dictate that something that beautiful and giving, so full of love and life, can't last forever. It has to be taken down by the jealous, the wicked, the cruel.
So... yeah... that's pretty much my plan for the next few months. Eat all these sandwiches until my circulatory system is just a log-jam of fatty deposits swimming in blood that tastes like beans. It's going to be the best few months EVER!!!