Landmark moments in lunch history:
1859: Oscar F. Mayer born in Kösingen, Germany.
1912: Bread slicer created. Widely believed to be the greatest invention since, well, ever.
Your ninth birthday: Mom stops cutting the crust off your PB&J.
2012: Your stomach is granted the right to vote. On sandwiches.
Presenting My Belly’s Playlist, a democratic, downtown delivery operation where popular upscale sandwiches stay in rotation and neglected ones are put out to pasture, available now.
Basically, this is like one gigantic sandwich primary. Every month, a lineup of 10 sandwiches is rolled out. Think cabernet-braised short rib sliders and nine-spice citrus banh mi baguettes.
They’ll each come boxed with an amuse-bouche (like parmesan honeycombs), a side (perhaps garlic pickle salad) and a dessert (expect chocolate here). Every time you order one up to the office, you’re essentially casting a vote. And ultimately saving a sandwich’s life.
Should you not see anything on the menu that catches your eye, there’s always the option for a write-in. Just go on their Facebook page and describe your perfect sandwich (ingredients should be street legal), and the chefs (ex-Lupa and Resto guys) may create it. If the lunching public shows enough support, you could end up with a sandwich named in your honor.
Now if only your parents hadn’t named you Ham.
1859: Oscar F. Mayer born in Kösingen, Germany.
1912: Bread slicer created. Widely believed to be the greatest invention since, well, ever.
Your ninth birthday: Mom stops cutting the crust off your PB&J.
2012: Your stomach is granted the right to vote. On sandwiches.
Presenting My Belly’s Playlist, a democratic, downtown delivery operation where popular upscale sandwiches stay in rotation and neglected ones are put out to pasture, available now.
Basically, this is like one gigantic sandwich primary. Every month, a lineup of 10 sandwiches is rolled out. Think cabernet-braised short rib sliders and nine-spice citrus banh mi baguettes.
They’ll each come boxed with an amuse-bouche (like parmesan honeycombs), a side (perhaps garlic pickle salad) and a dessert (expect chocolate here). Every time you order one up to the office, you’re essentially casting a vote. And ultimately saving a sandwich’s life.
Should you not see anything on the menu that catches your eye, there’s always the option for a write-in. Just go on their Facebook page and describe your perfect sandwich (ingredients should be street legal), and the chefs (ex-Lupa and Resto guys) may create it. If the lunching public shows enough support, you could end up with a sandwich named in your honor.
Now if only your parents hadn’t named you Ham.