Freaky Friday

Today, around lunch time, I got a fairly specific craving.  When I was working in Brentwood, those were easily addressed with any of the hundreds of options within a lunch-hour radius.

But now we're a bit more isolated.  I don't mind it for the most part, until today, when I came to the horrible realization that we are so isolated, Jimmy John's doesn't deliver.

Now, OK.  I don't loooooooove Jimmy John's.  It's fine, as sandwiches go.  I don't like their frat-boy founder, for reasons I vaguely recall - namely, he's sort of a pig, and I think he went on safari once and shot a bunch of animals.   Honestly, who can keep up with all the reasons I am supposed to be a SJW?  Is Chick-fil-A back on the OK list?

Anyway, Jimmy John's best quality is the delivery, and truth told, they make a decent roast beef.  We ordered them once to our hotel in New Orleans because it was easy, cheap, and light.  It was our evening meal before going to a jazz club/absinthe bar.  No regrets.

In my corporate life, I order them every so often - maybe five or six times a year.

But there's a recent development with Jimmy John's that piqued my interest, and is the reason for my specific craving.

Dis bonjour à mon petit ami.
The Frenchie.  It's similar to the sandwiches sold at the counters of bakeries all over France - in my case, the Paul at the end of Rue Tronchet, before it doglegs off to Avenue Haussman.

There are apparently a number of Pauls in Paris (and throughout France.  Not like, Starbucks numbers, but sufficient. They've been in business since 1889.

Their breakfasts were noteworthy, but that's another day.  Today, we discuss lunch.  These sandwiches are ubiquitous in Paris.  They have cheese and mixed greens ones, those with chicken, or hard boiled egg, or tuna.  But the typical one is bread, butter, ham and cheese (swiss, or something similar). 

They're marvelous.  The baguette is thin, and not so toothy, but still has that crust that crunches under the pressure of a bite.  

Butter is just brilliant - it's a lubricant that can be exposed to room temps without fear of salmonella, or whatever.  The ham is salty, the cheese is creamy and a little nutty.  It is the perfect food.  I carried one home from Paris in my purse the last time I was there, ate it for lunch the following day.

I also brought home a Central Grocery muffuletta in my bag from New Orleans.  The things we will do for a good sandwich.

So, the JJ Frenchie is similar - the bread is completely wrong, but not altogether bad.  It's what an average American would want French bread to be.  They have chosen salami, and that's a fine choice - I've had that in France, and it is, as they say miam, miam!  It means yum, yum.  It's thinly sliced, mild and not too oily.  The cheese is mild provolone, also thinly sliced, and the butter is butter.

But there is a little hiccup.  Jimmy John's does not deliver to my new office.  Quel horreur!!!

So I had to drive to a location not convenient to the office (but manageable), grab my sandwich (they're pre-made, just like in France), and drive back. 

And that's how an American can pretend, even if just for a moment that she's fifteen minutes from the Champs-Elysee, rather than fifteen years.

I also have some rose scented French soap I received at Christmas - I might bust that out later tonight and take a hot shower.

It's the little things, as always.