Damien S.
Yelp
First, I've got to know: who makes their bread? Is it baked in-house? Is it supplied by a gentle elderly woman who never speaks, only hums and does so with a penchant for German pop songs?
Because this bread is success. This bread wins.
The Italian ($10) is what you'd expect - pig parts cured, smoked and spiced in a handful of ways (salami, prosciutto, mortadella) and a mild provolone, piled high with a refreshingly peppery arugula, the run of the garden and vinaigrette on the aforementioned bread. In this case, it's a rustic, dense ciabatta. In this case, it's awesome.
Booster: this sandwich had to endure a 20 minute ride through lunch hour traffic, including a most devilish tour on 93, changing lanes like a what, getting tossed like a salad (and sandwiches hate salads, true story). By the time I returned to the homestead, my expertly wrapped lunch lost NARY A DROP of luscious dressing. Jam on it.
There are a half dozen more sandwiches on the list, and I'm looking forward to trying them all. In the interim, may I draw your attention to the skillfully curated beer selection? Rising Tide's Ursa Minor, Bantam's Wunderkind and a seasonal Smoked Saison (with smoked apples?!), Pretty Thing's Grampus... it's like someone scoped the local champions and hand-picked their prize pigs. Because, well, they did.
Awesome spreads, relishes and condiments, mostly crafted within a 150 mile radius (except for a few Brooklyn sneak-ins. Feckin Brooklyn), and even the bottled soft drinks are Hub-grown (shouts to Katalyst Kombucha and Something Natural Blueberry Lemon sparkling water - they put a bird on it, y'all). Cheeses that pleases and for dessert, a goat's milk caramel, or a housemade brownie? Samples, you say? Samples destroyed.
And as a sacrifice to the Hipster Deity who governs my neighborhood, I brought home a Sriracha mustard from VT called Atomic Rooster that's just as funky as the 70s British punk band of the same name, and slightly tastier to boot.
Get it? To boot? England? Sigh.