A Man and His Meat

It was only a matter of time before I used innuendo to entice readership; but this situation was so perfect, I couldn’t help myself.

The other night we decided to make soup and panini. The means one thing to me, the Green Goddess. The Husband decided to try recreating a favorite sandwich from the Twisted Fork food truck. He needed pastrami. The what? I haven’t eaten meat in more than 20 years, I don’t think I’ve ever had pastrami. We scoped out our neighborhood market and finally found some that he thought would do – but, I should add, was not ideal. (Those were his words with my eyeroll inserted by way of italics.)

He set to work carefully slicing buns, layering pastrami, Swiss cheese and arugula and then let The Griddler make its magic. I rarely see him so excited over something that isn’t craft beer. When he said, “You didn’t take a picture!” halfway through his sandwich, I dropped my Green Goddess and ran for the camera. This man’s meat had to be documented:

pastrami sandwich
Pastrami, Swiss cheese and arugula on a pretzel roll.

4 thoughts on “A Man and His Meat”

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