Elvis Wishes His Sandwich Was This Good

As I am sitting here writing today's Whip, I can't help but be jealous of last-week-Sonic.  He had a great dinner at Lamill Coffee, and I for one would not mind trading places with him in order to have that dinner again.  Last week, Sonic had a sandwich, chips, and some milk.  But it wasn't just any old sandwich, and certainly not Sandwich of the Trio.  "That is called cannibalism, my dear children," Willy Wonka would say.  "And is, in fact, frowned upon in most societies."

No, this sandwich was better, and definitely acceptable in most societies.  Actually, acceptable is a huge understatement.  This was a monumental, earth-shattering, mind-blowing, weak-at-the-knees, politics-changing, taste-exploding sandwich.

I could try and spend time trying to find words to describe this decadent creation.  But this sandwich was such an experience that mere words simply could not do it justice.  How can I describe the peanut butter without using such predictable words like "perfect consistency"?  How do I talk about peanut butter at all without suddenly flashing back to my five-year-old self, watching "Mr. Rogers Neighborhood" and eating peanut butter with a spoon?

And the chocolate?  Look at it.  Deliciously rich and milky Valrhona chocolate, direct from Tain-l'Hermitage, France.  What more is there to say?  Dare I talk about how its sweetness blended perfectly with the peanut butter?  Or how both of their meltedness provided a delightful contrast to the soft and chewy banana?  And that banana!  What can you say about a banana that hasn't already been said?

But the real kicker, the cherry on top of the sundae, the happy ending, was the milk.  This isn't your average in-the-fridge milk.  You dare not pour this milk over cereal, then toss it in the sink afterwards because it's gotten warm and cerealified.  No, this milk must be drunken, in tiny but effectively satisfying sips.  Too much and you're mouth will be spoiled and hate regular milk forever afterwards.  Too little, and your mouth will hate you for teasing it so.  This milk, this Madagascar Vanilla Milk, is why I am so so grateful that I am not lactose intolerant.  And even if I were, I'd suffer the stomachache later simply to be satisfied now.

Honestly, I can't find words to describe this meal.  Everything above only conveys my surface emotions.  There's more than meets the eye.  This meal changed my life.  It changed my beliefs.  It made me want to live.

Or, it's just all that chocolate and peanut butter and banana and milk messin' with my brain.  Put four fond comfort foods together in a meal like this and you're bound to go a little nuts.


- Sonic