poem

Perfect SandwichAs a boy I had a very peculiar approachTo the eating of my salami and cheese sandwiches:Start on the perimeter and suffer through the crust,Then an inward spiral to the middle.The goal was to save the thickest, meatiestBite for last, to be savored.  Things were supposed to always get better.That was the natural progression:Sadness, suffering, dutiful prep workAnd then a flourishing of flavor and satisfaction.The problem was it always culminated in anti climax;It never ended the way I hoped.It wasn ’t fair to those pitiful school lunch sandwichesI had meticulously made myselfBefore the school bus cameIn those days of want and precarity.Too much was always riding on the last bite.And once you swallow, it's just gone.Years later, after the attainment of sufficient wisdomI went about constructing the perfect sandwich,Drawing upon my decades of eating experience.I referenced chef books and gourmet magazines,Visited the Italian Deli:Sliced meats and French cheeses,Fresh breads from the bakery.I took my time, layer by layer, like fine masonry.By the end, it loomed regally upon the plate,A thick, robust, perfectly distributedBalance of salami, prosciutto, ham,Gouda, Camembert, lettuce, onions,Double-decker slices of rye and pumpernickel,A dollop of mayo, lightly spritzed with balsamic.When it was finished I promptly tossed it in the trash.What are doing, my son asked?I shrugged my shoulders and wiped down the knives.You threw away a perfectly good sandwich...

Source: Buckeye Surgeon - May 25, 2020 Category: Surgery Authors: Jeffrey Parks MD FACS Source Type: blogs