There I was having lunch at a garden diner in Marrakech, Morocco and what’s on the menu staring me in the face, asking “where have you been all my life?”? A SANDWICH. It turns out that sandwiches are universal. I used to believe that the binding force in all societies is alcohol, but I’m now swaying towards sandwiches. Anyhow, this tasty morsel was very basic:
- fluffy fresh bread roll, sliced in half
- spiced and grilled beef, cut into small chunks
- white plate, tiny salad and dribbles of condiments completely unnecessary
As you can probably guess, the sandwich was a little dry. The meat was a bit chewy and tough, but still moist. The bread wasn’t terribly dry, but without something else in the sandwich, it needed gulps of water in between bites. No matter, I was happy enough to have a sandwich that I scarfed it down.
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