BREAKFAST MAD-WICH
The Dish
You people owe me. I don’t know what, exactly, you owe me, but you are definitely in my debt.
I just got back from the saddest place on earth and it’s killing me from the inside out.
You see, last week, I stopped in the new Bacon restaurant (the new gig by the owners of Devil’s Martini, in the old Café Blue space) and had a damn delicious sandwich. It looked like this:
Basically, it’s a BLT with a fried egg, served with beans and sweet potatoes.
Somewhere along the way, I thought it’d be funny if I pitted this beauty against the new Denny’s Grand Slamwich—which is kind-of-but-not-really supposed to be a Grand Slam, in sandwich form. It’s not. It’s disgusting, and I feel like crap now. This is the culprit:
I was going to compare the artisanal ingredients of the Bacon sandwich against mass-distributed ones from Denny’s. But at the end of the day, who really cares where it comes from as long as it tastes good. So there’s no reason to go there.
I was going to compare price. Which one is the better value? But at the end of the day, who really cares how much it costs as long as it tastes good. So there’s no reason to go there, either.
I was going to compare service. Ironic, because last week I realized that the service at Applebee’s is better than the service at The Vig, so how funny would it be to find out that Denny’s beats out Bacon in that department. But at the end of the day, who really cares how nice your waitress is as long as the food tastes good. So again, no reason to go there.
But you know what should have tipped me off? The nutritional breakdown of the Grand Slamwich. Behold:
> 1,320 calories
> 162% of your daily cholesterol allowance
> 110% of your sodium allowance
> And 89 grams of fat, 70% of which is saturated fat
Granted, I don’t know what’s in Bacon’s sandwich, but now I know what you people owe me: A fucking bottle of Lipitor.
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