A diner from Jacksonville, AR
Sep 9, 2008
Everyone's always talking about a great dive here in Little Rock called Community Bakery. So, today, I decided to have lunch there. I ordered their mozzarella panini, an intriguing item that had me fidgeting excitedly on the edge of my seat as I waited for it to be delivered to the table. I'm always eager to try new foods.
What they brought me, however, was a $7.00 grilled cheese sandwich. Given its price, I started turning it this way and that, expecting to find a Versace or Lagerfeld label on it somewhere. But, no. Just some golden brown grill marks and what I'm assuming was olive oil, though I hope it was at least trans fat-free. One wants to ride a bandwagon, after all, when indulging in this kind of hyped-up atmosphere.
For a $7.00 grilled cheese, I felt anything less than a pretentious review would be remiss, so here it is--my first-ever food review.
Surprisingly mild-mannered, with dewy Tuscan overtones and just a hint of Venetian debauchery. It was like a subdued, aristocratic costume ball in my mouth, and my tongue was the courtesan. Unfortunately, the action that took place was decidedly Victorian, and it made my stomach feel like it had been subjected to the age-old torture of edging. It expected a great climax, but instead it was left half-empty and wanting more. Perhaps for an extra fifty cents, I could've had the sandwich enhanced to give me the moderate thrill of acid reflux, if nothing else. The satisfaction of eating it can best be summed up as messianic: always anticipated, but never realized.
Though I didn't try it, the roast beef sandwich looks, in hindsight, much more promising, and for considerably less money. It strikes me as the sort of sleeper fare that will turn out to be served with a side of leather chaps, a tub of Crisco, and arm-length latex gloves. Sometimes, the most unassuming selections prove to be the most adventurous, though you might want to check with your medical insurance carrier before taking the plunge to be certain they cover masticatory mishaps. This one just might have teeth--and steel studs--of its own. One can hope.
What they brought me, however, was a $7.00 grilled cheese sandwich. Given its price, I started turning it this way and that, expecting to find a Versace or Lagerfeld label on it somewhere. But, no. Just some golden brown grill marks and what I'm assuming was olive oil, though I hope it was at least trans fat-free. One wants to ride a bandwagon, after all, when indulging in this kind of hyped-up atmosphere.
For a $7.00 grilled cheese, I felt anything less than a pretentious review would be remiss, so here it is--my first-ever food review.
Surprisingly mild-mannered, with dewy Tuscan overtones and just a hint of Venetian debauchery. It was like a subdued, aristocratic costume ball in my mouth, and my tongue was the courtesan. Unfortunately, the action that took place was decidedly Victorian, and it made my stomach feel like it had been subjected to the age-old torture of edging. It expected a great climax, but instead it was left half-empty and wanting more. Perhaps for an extra fifty cents, I could've had the sandwich enhanced to give me the moderate thrill of acid reflux, if nothing else. The satisfaction of eating it can best be summed up as messianic: always anticipated, but never realized.
Though I didn't try it, the roast beef sandwich looks, in hindsight, much more promising, and for considerably less money. It strikes me as the sort of sleeper fare that will turn out to be served with a side of leather chaps, a tub of Crisco, and arm-length latex gloves. Sometimes, the most unassuming selections prove to be the most adventurous, though you might want to check with your medical insurance carrier before taking the plunge to be certain they cover masticatory mishaps. This one just might have teeth--and steel studs--of its own. One can hope.
