I have something of extreme importance to share.

Faerdal · Toomuchtimeonhands Joined: 11 Oct 2002 Posts: 954

Ladies and gentlemen,

I just finished eating the best sandwiches that I have ever tasted in my life. These sandwiches were of no ordinary caliber. Carefully crafted by the sure and steady hands of yours truly, they rose from mere ingredients to join into a blessed union of taste unequaled by any normal foodstuff.

To begin with, I must describe the bread. This was no pre-sliced grocery store specimen, but an Italian sandwich bread roll of the finest grain, carved into thick slices of tender white goodness with a knife guided by the deft, surgeon-like precision of my hands. No BLT can be properly served on untoasted bread, as any common man knows, and the mild light-golden tinge imparted upon these heavenly loaves created the perfect texture upon which to lay the bed of spices. A diaphanous layer of bacon Caesar dressing was the mortar upon which the foundation of this mighty structure was raised, augmented by a minute smattering of grated parmesan cheese, oregano, Italian spice mixes, and a dash of salt and pepper. The lettuce was next to fall into place. A generous layer of crisp, fresh leaves were carefully piled about the bread, contrasting the warm ivory glow of the bread with its glimmering verdant radiance. To compliment the healthy carpet of lettuce, I sliced up one large beefsteak tomato, dividing it into carefully tapered slivers, and spread these upon the sandwich in a perfectly layered pattern, providing just the right amount of tomato along the entire length of the sandwich.

At this point, the concoctions were already large enough to dwarf any normal sandwich. This great symphony of creation was not finished playing though.

There is one thing, and one thing only, at the heart of every BLT. The one thing that must be purchased with tenacious concern and properly prepared with the unwavering vigilance that only the most dedicated sandwich makers can muster. The lard gilded flesh of pig. To say that bacon is the most marvelous of all the foods would be a gross understatement, an attack on the very perfection inherent in it. I do not understand those who do not share my feelings towards the consumption of this paragon of gourmet excellence. I only wish them to reconsider such that they may rise above the dim drudgrery of their everyday lives, if only for a few minutes at meal time. If you would have seen the bacon that was lying on that paper towel you would understand. From the scalding vat of exuded grease in which it fried, it was metamorphisized from limp strips of meat into crispy, sizzling pieces of matchless taste and texture. Each new piece, upon entry into the pan, began to soak up the juices of its predecessors, impregnating itself with the salty elixir in which it bathed.

The final result was nothing short of exquiteness. As I gazed upon the resplendent synthesis of bacon, lettuce, tomato, bread, and spices that lay on my plate, I simultaneously felt both sorrow and joy. To realize that such an impeccable creation would shortly be lost to this world was disheartening, but knowing that the fulfillment of its solemn duty, its destiny, was at hand, was enough to make up for any sadness at the great loss soon to occur.

To merely look at the sandwiches one could only conjecture as to the actual taste. Of course it was assumed to be of quality, but until I bit into it I could only fathom a shadow of the experience that was to come. As the fusion of ingredients first came into contact with my taste buds, they sent nerve impulses blazing back through my tongue like I had never felt before. Each was an explosion of flavor, like notes of a great symphony, brilliantly coruscating through the concert hall of my mind. I knew then that every ounce of effort and consideration that I had put into this sandwich was worth it, that nothing I could buy in the finest restaurant could come close to equalling this. I am not of the religious persuasion, but I adamantly believe that if there were to be a God or Gods, this is what they would serve at their dinner table to their most honored guests.

It is not within the bounds of language to fully impart my feelings on this. I consider myself to be a good writer, but there are no words in English (or any other script) that I can conceive to truly express myself. We would have to converse in the language of pure thought and emotion, and it is unfortunate that telepathy is not possible.

I bid you all a fine evening, and may you one day experience the culinary bliss that I have tonight,

Humbly,
Faerdal

I have something of extreme importance to share.

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