Above: CARB0-LOADING AT CECIL'S DELI—Left: plate from one latke (I make really great latkes and I wanted to try one from someone else before the Zombie Apocalypse). The waiter asked what I wanted because he could tell I wanted something "else" and I said, "I'm curious about the latkes but I don't want three." "For 1/3 the price you can have one," he replied, so quickly that I knew it must be a regular request even without the impending Zombie Apocalypse. "Well let's do it," I said, with the same lack of hesitation. "Then that will be one mystery solved." (Sour cream of course, apple sauce is for amateurs.) (Results: it's a fluffy, flour-y version that is seasoned just right. I like mine a tad better—I believe in a lot of texture and my potatoes are grated.) Center plate: remains of the French Toast Turkey Club with a side of fries. What can I say about this sandwich? It is French Toast (fluffy and eggy) with pastrami and turkey, spring onions, and thousand island dressing (yes, thousand island dressing)—you have to eat it with a knife and fork; and crisp, crusty fries that are really plump pillows of potato-y goodness so hot as to burn your tongue so be careful. Center back: fruit salad and a Sasha sandwich, which Dick ordered. As far as I can tell it's pastrami, a soft fried egg, and "bird sauce" on rye. I don't like rye bread so I never pay much attention. And right: a vanilla malt. I gave Dick the can. I don't usually share. He probably thought I was being generous because of the impending Zombie Apocalypse, but I didn't think it was malty enough—I like a lot of malt (he said it was very malty). But let's not tell him my reasons for sharing. The "good-will feeling" might come in handy during the trying times to come.
Read the caption. And if you're still confused read yesterday's post.