I just ate the first half of this, thankfully without the tangy zip of Miracle Whip. O Sandwiches brings a level of finesse to banh mi that you don't always find in a lot of South Philly sandwich joints, particularly when it comes to the preparation of the meat. I've often been turned off when my teeth hit a chicken knuckle, or something inexplicable in the middle of my sandwich. It leads me to expect one in each subsequent bite and I slow down, chewing ever so slowly and using the various components of my mouth to sift through their present contents. This takes a fair amount of concentration, so whoever I'm with begins to notice that, though I may be staring intently and slowly moving my jaw in an interested fashion, I'm not actually listening.
That's never a problem at O Sandwiches, where the meat is finely chopped and packed in neatly underneath a liberal serving of carrot and radish pickles, cilantro and hot green peppers that I always forget to tell them to hold. I like hot food, I'm not a bitch, but those little bastards always do a number on my esophagus. You can judge my age by the pile of Tums wrapper bits on my desk, a collection that grows with my fits of pained desperation.
I'll leave you with that as I eat the rest of this thing.
