Look, things have gotten busy, things have gotten hectic, things have gotten boring. I'm sure you don't come here to hear about my day job, no, you come here to hear about sandwiches. So let's talk about sandwiches.
Zoe's, 22 September
I had the week off and I had treated Kafe Nasty to Heather's (we split a Rachael and a Cubano and agreed the Cubano was the better of the two) at the beginning of the week so he decided to treat me at the end. He wanted to go to Mort's and I was like, "Homie, I'm not biking forty five minutes to Mort's." So we decided on Bryn Mawr Pizza & Deli but that was closed, so we hit Zoe's, which Kafe like and I had never been to.
Now, you know how I talk shit like, "Motherfucker, if you say you're going to put pesto aioli on my sandwich you better put it on with a shovel?" Yeah? Well, this was (not) my first lesson in being careful what I wished for. That's the pesto turkey and it was dripping in my pesto aioli. Wish I had more napkins. Kudos to them for having the telepathy to know exactly what I wanted.
The greens were bullshit and I didn't like the vinaigrette but the sandwich was awesome.
Also, Kafe Nasty was trying to play off the Tinder notification on his phone like it was just Tinder trying to get him to come back. Bruv, I've played the Tinder Tarot, I know you got a message. Just hook up a little action. It won't kill you.
Anyway, Zoe's is good. Maybe not give-them-your-money good but if you should happen to be near there, check them out.
The Dunn Bros By My Apartment, 3 October
I don't know, it's some kind of Italian thing. I don't remember what's on it.
What's that? You live somewhere where it's not Minnesota? Do you have a Dunn Bros where you live? Yeah? It's a dece sandwich. Can't remember if it had a pesto aioli on it. At least they had the goddamned human decency to not put lettuce on it. You should try it.
Heather's, 16 October
Well, I'm addicted to fennel slaw, now.
I've told you before to give Heather's your money, just go -
What's that? You want to know what it is? OK, well, that's the chicken Caesar sandwich, two breast meat fillets smothered in Caesar something-or-other with lettuce, tomato, and fennel slaw, which was herbal and vinagery. It was a light, satisfying sandwich.
I had a light lunch that day because I knew Kath and I would be getting together that night and I was about to say we should hit up Yeah Yeah Taco (the closest thing to a Taco Cat successor that we have now that Taco Cat is gone) again but their carnitas leave a film on my lips so I suggested Heather's since Heather's is always a winner.
Always.
And beware: The menu always rotates so be sure to check it out before you make the hike there. You may or may not get this sandwich. Thing about Heather's is, though, that you'll still see something you like.
Taqueria Victor Hugo, 18 October
After some cactus shopping (Mother up in north) and some record shopping (Know Name down in Diamond Lake is what's hot on the street), Kath and I were in the mood to try one of those taquerias on Portland just over the line in Richfield when we found out, "Snap, there's a Victor Hugo (#2) just a half mile due damned west."
Kath got a chicken quesadilla the size of a pie and I got three carnitas tacos (I love tinga but I wasn't feeling it today).
Let me tell you, I hated radishes when I was a kid. It took finding authentic taquerias in the Twin Cities to convert me to radishes, whatever my guy, Carson, wherever he is these days, says, be damned. And they hooked me up with like three limes per taco and look at the hot sauces!
I love salsa verde so I ripped through that, gave Kath one of my salsa rojas which she liked but was too hot for me (though I liked the smokey flavor).
Best of all, the carnitas weren't greazy, they were, in fact, perfect. And I thought I detected something in the flavor a little earthen, like coffee or (unsweetened) cocoa (but not clove) (I could be wrong about all of this, B.T. Dubs), in the spice, perhaps chicory? It was just below the surface, I could almost detect what it was but I wasn't sure. And the tortillas were grilled to just-almost-but-not-stiff, al dente, which was perfection. I highly encourage you to give them your money. All of it. Now.
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