We’re back, briefly, after a few months away from the sandwich world.
As with our previous absences, we suspect you’re demanding an apology, and again, you’ll probably feel bad about that when you read why we’ve been away.
You see, late last November, we were excited to bring in a new batch of interns. Our summer interns were a distastefully rowdy bunch, all of them lazy and prone to no-call, no-shows. A new batch of collegians inexplicably looking to work for free was on its way to our office.
They seemed a bright bunch, but their flame was far from eternal. On their ill fated Mindy-led office tour, one of the interns fell out of step. He was yellow or green ... kind of a “citrusy” color, Mindy said.
Dying, the intern, whose name I can’t recall, hacked out his final words: an unintelligible series of guttural noises.
It wasn’t long after the other interns fell ill. The sick calls increased exponentially, and we began to consider calling the back-up interns from Colorado State. We talked to the sandylab staff, and they soon diagnosed an outbreak of Internal Bleeding — a fast-spreading disease unique to interns that unsurprisingly counts internal bleeding among its many symptoms.
You should be happy to learn that several interns survived, and we are making due without frivolities like fresh coffee and printed documents. Needless to say, we couldn’t bear eating sandwiches for the last few months as we grieved our lack of free employees.
We’re over it now.
However, this doesn’t mean we’ll be posting much more for now, if at all, as we’re packing our office and headed east. “East?” you ask. Yes, to the sandwich connoisseur’s Valhalla: New York City. They may have bullshit salsa, but that matters not. New York is home to The Delicatessens — the world’s most elite sandwich guild. Their presence is unavoidable in the city. It has to be; a lesser-known aspect of Mayor Giuliani’s efforts to make New York less scary included a thick slice of pork for The Delicatessens. As of Jan. 1, 1996, every commercial block of Manhattan must house no fewer than three delis.
From its Lower East Side headquarters, the guild decides the fate of the world’s sandwich eaters. Said eaters are in good hands; the guild’s ranks include several of the world’s top sandwich artisans, philosophers and engineers. Besides specialized sandwich skills, guild members learn a deadly form of hand-to-hand combat similar to Muay Thai, which is taught to them at orientation by an old, bearded Asian man in the back of Katz's Deli. Armed with their fists, knees and schmear knives, The Delicatessens have successfully defended their neighborhood from invading guilds on several occasions, most recently the Necromancer Incursion of 1951 and the Irish Blight of 1977.
We’re obviously thrilled to taste their creations.
In the meantime, we have some old reviews to revive and some new sandies to share. Get ready … for sandwiches!
As with our previous absences, we suspect you’re demanding an apology, and again, you’ll probably feel bad about that when you read why we’ve been away.
You see, late last November, we were excited to bring in a new batch of interns. Our summer interns were a distastefully rowdy bunch, all of them lazy and prone to no-call, no-shows. A new batch of collegians inexplicably looking to work for free was on its way to our office.
They seemed a bright bunch, but their flame was far from eternal. On their ill fated Mindy-led office tour, one of the interns fell out of step. He was yellow or green ... kind of a “citrusy” color, Mindy said.
Dying, the intern, whose name I can’t recall, hacked out his final words: an unintelligible series of guttural noises.
It wasn’t long after the other interns fell ill. The sick calls increased exponentially, and we began to consider calling the back-up interns from Colorado State. We talked to the sandylab staff, and they soon diagnosed an outbreak of Internal Bleeding — a fast-spreading disease unique to interns that unsurprisingly counts internal bleeding among its many symptoms.
You should be happy to learn that several interns survived, and we are making due without frivolities like fresh coffee and printed documents. Needless to say, we couldn’t bear eating sandwiches for the last few months as we grieved our lack of free employees.
We’re over it now.
However, this doesn’t mean we’ll be posting much more for now, if at all, as we’re packing our office and headed east. “East?” you ask. Yes, to the sandwich connoisseur’s Valhalla: New York City. They may have bullshit salsa, but that matters not. New York is home to The Delicatessens — the world’s most elite sandwich guild. Their presence is unavoidable in the city. It has to be; a lesser-known aspect of Mayor Giuliani’s efforts to make New York less scary included a thick slice of pork for The Delicatessens. As of Jan. 1, 1996, every commercial block of Manhattan must house no fewer than three delis.
From its Lower East Side headquarters, the guild decides the fate of the world’s sandwich eaters. Said eaters are in good hands; the guild’s ranks include several of the world’s top sandwich artisans, philosophers and engineers. Besides specialized sandwich skills, guild members learn a deadly form of hand-to-hand combat similar to Muay Thai, which is taught to them at orientation by an old, bearded Asian man in the back of Katz's Deli. Armed with their fists, knees and schmear knives, The Delicatessens have successfully defended their neighborhood from invading guilds on several occasions, most recently the Necromancer Incursion of 1951 and the Irish Blight of 1977.
We’re obviously thrilled to taste their creations.
In the meantime, we have some old reviews to revive and some new sandies to share. Get ready … for sandwiches!
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