Sunday, May 04, 2008
"Quizno's."
A new sandwich company has opened its doors just a few blocks from Pat's house. It is called "Quizno's," perhaps named for an Italian fellow, and their claim to fame is that they heat up all of their sandwiches, guaranteed. This intrigued me, as I have a very good memory of a hot sandwich at a road house late one night while driving across the country. Oh how the roll was toasty but soft, and oh how the cheese did melt into a fine soft sheet atop the many meats. I did not ask for the free fresh-sliced onions, because I did not want to cool down the sandwich with vegetables.
My sandwich at Quizno's was quite tasty. After some time in considering the large menu, I asked the female for a Bacon Chipotle Club, and I agreed to the larger size (one foot). It was served open-faced, and I allowed for a squirt of pink-colored "chili" mayonnaise. I am glad that I did. The sandwich bites came alive and sang once inside my lips. I ate and ate, the pleasure of each mouthful growing like a fire inside me. Saliva squirted inside my mouth with abandon, like a car wash. That sandwich was literally treated to a car wash inside my mouth...
I was so pleased with the sandwich that I pored over all of the literature available about Quizno's, but could find no company history. This must mean that it is a corporate invention. That is fine, if they can produce such a tasty product, but I would like them even better if they had a good story to them. Once home, I sat myself at my desk and began to pen the tale of Giugliacomo "Johnny" Quizno, my imaginary founder of the chain. A good, stout boy from Italy, he boards a steamship for Brooklyn in 1909, and makes his bones the old-world way, in a time of murder, prostitution, hard liquor, and the foods that stood up to it. He has a large belly all his life, but this is shown as seeming trustworthy rather than unpleasant. Anyhow. I am typing all of this up, and even drawing a portrait of Johnny, to mail to the corporate headquarters. It is an exciting time, for I know they will welcome this clever idea.
My sandwich at Quizno's was quite tasty. After some time in considering the large menu, I asked the female for a Bacon Chipotle Club, and I agreed to the larger size (one foot). It was served open-faced, and I allowed for a squirt of pink-colored "chili" mayonnaise. I am glad that I did. The sandwich bites came alive and sang once inside my lips. I ate and ate, the pleasure of each mouthful growing like a fire inside me. Saliva squirted inside my mouth with abandon, like a car wash. That sandwich was literally treated to a car wash inside my mouth...
I was so pleased with the sandwich that I pored over all of the literature available about Quizno's, but could find no company history. This must mean that it is a corporate invention. That is fine, if they can produce such a tasty product, but I would like them even better if they had a good story to them. Once home, I sat myself at my desk and began to pen the tale of Giugliacomo "Johnny" Quizno, my imaginary founder of the chain. A good, stout boy from Italy, he boards a steamship for Brooklyn in 1909, and makes his bones the old-world way, in a time of murder, prostitution, hard liquor, and the foods that stood up to it. He has a large belly all his life, but this is shown as seeming trustworthy rather than unpleasant. Anyhow. I am typing all of this up, and even drawing a portrait of Johnny, to mail to the corporate headquarters. It is an exciting time, for I know they will welcome this clever idea.
