There I was, Saturday, the day of my nieces graduation. The only day I had to see her through the right of passage from childhood into adulthood, and also the only day I would have to find and satisfy my 10 (plus) year craving for a delicious, scrumptious, roast beef, tomato, and cream cheese, pretzel bread sandwich. The bread would look dark on the outside, perfectly brown, dusted on the top with rock sea salt, and filled inside with yummy goodness.

My mouth watered at the thought of it. We went to the only restaurant that served the delectable delight. Down long hall ways. Down an escalator, up an elevator, down a hall way, down an escalator, and to a sports bar. A what? I remembered a cafe, with booths and waitresses. But apparently, 10 plus years are a long time and things have been moved around a bit. My restaurant memories were now replaced with a deli style setting and sports bar seating. Oh well. As long as they still had my sandwich.


I know you all must have been praying for me, because yes! There it was! Proof that I wasn't dreaming of such a delicious delight! A sandwich made from my favorite food.