My hero
Last Saturday I had a sandwich I will never forget. It was the bread that really did it for me: It was soft pretzel-esque, moist and almost sweet. There was turkey breast, melted cheese and just the right amount of Dijon mustard -- none dripped out as I held it to my mouth. It was an enjoyable eating experience on a number of levels. I've no groundbreaking argument here, other than sandwiches have been an integral part of my diet all my life, and I've been fortunate enough to consume a variety of delicious ones. It runs in the family. My dad and sister are also huge sandwich fans. My sister and I frequently have conversations about sandwiches; I call her when I've had a fantastic one so we can talk about it. Meanwhile, my dad has been an effective role model when it comes to sandwich-making -- after a large meal, notably Thanksgiving, his custom is making mini-sandwiches by placing bits of turkey meat in a dinner roll. No matter how much was eaten already, there's always room for the mini-sandwich.

