Spooked yah.
The third act of the Sprung Break Chronicles was a joyous
reunion.
As I coasted to a stop at the crest of 168th and
took a safe yet hurried right onto 15th Ave. I was greeted by the gawky
grin of a Shoreline staple point.
Ichi Bento is the wise respectful Japanese Uncle
of the Shoreline food family. Uncle Bento doesn’t try to do anything flashy or
flamboyant, instead he quietly supplies a sturdy product that satisfies all the
rameatfications for excellence. Ichi Bento has made cherished visits to the
Mustard Family dinner table for as long as I can remember and in that time
quality has never wavered. Thank you Ichi Bento, I hope everyday is a nice day
for you.
The fourth and final act culminated my Sprung Break with a thunderous
crescendo.
The sandwich that I devoured may very well be the best thing I have
ever eaten so please excuse me if I get a bit animeated. On the drive down to
Pioneer Square the string section began to pluck lightly in piccicato, I could
sense butterflies gathering in my belly. The park and walk towards our
illustrious destination was agony; the woodwinds attempted to offer solace. As
our Mapquest guided pilgrimage approached Salumi a long line
of expectant patrons engulfed us; tense horn stabs mirrored my discontent. The
bellow of booming bass increased in frequency and anticipation
as we crawled towards the Wicked ‘Wich of the West. With the counter in sight and
taunting smells overwhelming, the orchestra’s pace began to spiral upward.
Blurred vision, clammy hands and lightheaded giddiness overtook me as I
exchanged dollars for doughy goodness chock full of unparalleled pork; the
noise was staggering. With financials resolved and weighty sandwich securely
grasped in my anxious hands I was finally ready to consummeat my relationship
with the Porchetta. The orchestra
soared as I clamped into my first bite; cymbals crashed as my chompers tore
through artisan bread, French horns howled for vivid veggies, and the harp
cried for tender pork. The frantic four minutes of ravenous
eating and bewitching music that followed may have the happiest momeats of my
life; and, with the final bite safely secured in my stomach, the conductor
finally lowered his baton. I, as well as he, took a bow.
No comments:
Post a Comment