You call that a sandwich?

I love being from New Orleans. Absolutuely love it. i love telling people where i am from and about all the reasons why I think it is such a great place. The food, the music, The colorful cast of characters, the people, the hospitality, the style, and all the Lagniappe that makes the Big Easy so beautiful.

I also love visiting new places and meeting new people. I like to do things their way and see how they live and to see what's so beautiful about where they are from. All of this is fine and well, but there is one point where I draw the line. Sandwiches.

Ever since the first artisan slapped that hunk of meat between a couple biscuits(C'mon people, I'm talking about sandwiches) generations and cultures have been eating sandwiches. The sandwich is an effective culinary tool. To eat each part of a sandwich independently is a task and can leave your fingers messy. The idea to encapsulate the meat, produce, and condiments within the cozy confines of bread was culinary genius.

Over the years there have been many versions of the sandwich and they have grown in size, shape, and name. The ingredients have changed as well and we now find ourselves in the midst of the "Golden Age" of sandwiches where sandwich shops battle for market share by using relentless advertising and opening locations on every corner and in every wal-mart or gas station on your route to anywhere, U.S.A.

here comes the "but"

But, I rarely frequent these fine establishments. I find little joy in these sandwiches with their various artisan 5 cheese honey oat italian herbs breads and fine assortment of meats and 27 varietis of cheese and blue cheese bacon ranch italian olive oil chipotle sauces. All of those ingredients and options are fine, and you may love some or all of them, and that is ok.

But to me, it's a snack at best.

You see, where I am from, this is not a sandwich

THIS is a sandwich

I mean no disrespect, but once you have enjoyed an authentic New Orleans style roast beef po-boy, there is no other sanwich.

And so, it all goes back to where you are from. I am from new orleans, and when momma said i'm gonna bring home some sandwiches we didn't open a bag of chips, we went and got an extra roll of paper towels to wipe the gravy off our elbows and a fork to scoop up all the extras left on the plate that the french bread could not contain.

So, let me apologize in advance when you ask me if I would like a sandwich and I politely refuse. I certainly mean no disrespect and I truly hope you enjoy yours . As for me, I'll wait till i get back home. where it's not just a sandwich, it's a meal.