Oh, hey. Welcome back.
We trust your weekend was filled with all the usual splendors—boning up on the nuances of beach volleyball. Some advanced hot-tubbing. Eating sandwiches that have whiskey in them.
Oh wait, you couldn’t have been doing that last one, because you’ve never heard of it.
Cancel all lunch plans and make way for Liquor-Infused Panini from Salumè, just a few Italian sandwiches that also happen to be sauced up, available now.
This was inevitable. The polygamous marriage of mortadella, cave-aged cheeses you’ve got to pronounce in a hearty Italian accent and the distinct taste of the grappa dripped over the meat. Yes, dripped over. It’s not some complicated process of slow-cooking that burns off all the good stuff. They simply take a medicine dropper and make your sandwich alcoholic.
You’ve got a few options here. They’ve got one with Surryano ham and rye, and another with prosciutto, beets and scotch. There’s a crudo prosciutto with gin. Just taking home a couple pounds of the drizzled meat is another way to go. (Nothing goes with Kraft singles like gin-drizzled prosciutto.)
You’ll notice the booze more in some sandwiches than others, which obviously means that you’ll have to keep returning until you’ve viewed, wafted and expertly tasted each and every one.
You operate on a platform of “leave no sandwich behind.”
We trust your weekend was filled with all the usual splendors—boning up on the nuances of beach volleyball. Some advanced hot-tubbing. Eating sandwiches that have whiskey in them.
Oh wait, you couldn’t have been doing that last one, because you’ve never heard of it.
Cancel all lunch plans and make way for Liquor-Infused Panini from Salumè, just a few Italian sandwiches that also happen to be sauced up, available now.
This was inevitable. The polygamous marriage of mortadella, cave-aged cheeses you’ve got to pronounce in a hearty Italian accent and the distinct taste of the grappa dripped over the meat. Yes, dripped over. It’s not some complicated process of slow-cooking that burns off all the good stuff. They simply take a medicine dropper and make your sandwich alcoholic.
You’ve got a few options here. They’ve got one with Surryano ham and rye, and another with prosciutto, beets and scotch. There’s a crudo prosciutto with gin. Just taking home a couple pounds of the drizzled meat is another way to go. (Nothing goes with Kraft singles like gin-drizzled prosciutto.)
You’ll notice the booze more in some sandwiches than others, which obviously means that you’ll have to keep returning until you’ve viewed, wafted and expertly tasted each and every one.
You operate on a platform of “leave no sandwich behind.”
