The screensaver – call it the great office identifier, a glowing signpost through which we express our off-hours fidelities and obsessions. Take a look around you. I’d bet cash money that your colleagues’ computers are awash with pictures of their spouses, their dogs, the view from the cabana on their last vacation, the upside-down view of the cabana boy from later that same day…
Me? I have a Hipstamatic picture of a sandwich.
The greatest sandwich ever made. A sandwich that made the normally reticent Zac Crain ask, “How do you not weigh 300 pounds?”
I’ve eaten this sandwich consistently since November 27, 1984 — the day I got my driver’s license. This is the sandwich that got me through the death of my grandmother and the 30-years-overdue purging of my childhood home. It lives only in Jacksonville, Florida. It’s called a Mozzarella Lubi. I miss it. A lot.
Here’s how it goes (and I really do suggest you sit down for this): atop a hot dog bun, layer mustard, mayo, seasoned ground beef, onions, hot peppers, sour cream, marinara sauce and mozzarella cheese. The result is then microwaved (mysteriously in aluminum foil) and served with a cherry limeade.
I don’t expect you to understand.
But young Master Crain’s comment got me thinking that, as a new Dallas resident, I need a new signature sandwich. So I’m opening up the comments line to suggestions. Come on, Dallas foodies – the sloppier the better! My near-Herculean metabolism and I will be the judge.
