Muff love

I am in love with the muffuletta. I'm salivating just thinking of it. Seriously. Trying to find more information about the muffuletta made me feel like I was looking up porn. That salami, that cheese, that olive spread, that sesame seed topped bread. Man.

I knew about this famed sandwich from my New Orleans research but didn't get around to it until my last few hours in the city. I am so glad Jacob suggested that I stop by Central Grocery Company before my flight to pick up an airplane muffuletta snack. The idea didn't even occur to me. Maybe that's why he has a Ph.D. and I don't.

With only a few hours left in New Orleans, I walked a few blocks from Sara's house in the Marginy down to Decatur Street to Central Grocery. I tried not to look like a tourist. I tried to look like I knew what I was doing. I took in the small grocery store that smelled of olives and that had signs directing newcomers where to stand in line. I ordered half a muffuletta. There was a pile of sandwiches already made and packed up. The man behind the counter handed me a half-moon shaped package. It was so easy. I walked out of Central Grocery with my muff in my purse, headed back to Sara's, packed the muff in my backpack, and called a cab to the airport.

With my layover in Houston delayed for an hour due to thunderstorms, it was perfect muffuletta time. I found a spot among the black airport chairs away from others, unpacked my muffuletta, laid the plastic bag across my lap, and unwrapped the sandwich from its layers of paper. This was the first time I laid my eyes on this glorious being and it was impressive. Grease covered the paper, which held the two pie wedges of bread stuffed with green olives, cheese, and slices of cured meat. Its aroma was intoxicatingly strong.

I picked up one of the wedges and took a bite. The bread was soft but with a hearty chew. The sesame seeds that topped it also added a nice toasty taste. The alternating layers of meat, cheese, and meat were beautifully balanced, not too much cheese and not to much meat. The best part, however, was the olive salad. Green olives and vegetables all mixed together in a salty, briny, hella tasty mix. I wondered why all sandwiches didn't include this wondrous concoction. I savored every bite of that first half.

As I started making my way into the second half of my sandwich, slowing down quite a bit, a group of stylish young professionals sat down next to me. The very cute man who took the seat right next to me, looked at my sandwich and laughed.

"Are you laughing at my sandwich?" I asked.
"No. We were looking for sandwiches and all we got were these," he said, referring to wraps in plastic boxes.
"I didn't get this here."
"Someone thought ahead."
"Yes, yes, I did."
"Is it a special sandwich?"
"Yeah. It's a muffuletta. I got it in New Orleans." I showed him my bag.

He ate his wrap. When his friend across the aisle, who was away during our interaction, sat back down to eat at his wrap, he gave a look of concern to his friend.

Cute friend said, "It ain't no muffuletta."
"It was delicious," I replied. And, it was.