Alright, so I'd never eaten at Langer's - tried about 4 times, it was closed every time.
Yeah, well, my girlfriend and I split one simple pastrami on rye, and one #... #... whatever, the rye and coleslaw and Russian and pastrami.
Anyway, yeah. What have I got to say about it? Ummmm...
I swear to you, this is not an exaggeration. I am trying to be as neutrally accurate as possible. But it was literally unbelievably good. I mean, when most people say "unbelievably good", they don't mean it - it's just some sort of extra emphatic nonense. I mean it. I actually had some sort of bizarre disassociative experience, where I stopped believing that I was there eating that sandwich, because there was no way a pastrami sandwich could be this good.
I mean it.
This has never happened to me before with food. Only, say, in college, after years of steady rejection by girls, when girls first started getting interested in me - for about 6 months, I would regularly, during moments of intimacy, experience a similar sense of dissasociation. The belief that no girl could possibly dig me was far stronger than any sensory input about what was actually in my arms.
I haven't felt that for years, until this sandwich.
I think it wouldn't have happened without the bread. I mean, the pastrami is fantastic - FANTASTIC - but it is still barely within the realm of the believable. It is the softness/crunch of the bread, and the combination's utter carnal satisfaction, that really pushed it over the edge. And I think it wouldn't have been so unbelievable had I not done a pastrami tour of New York, and found what I had previously thought to be the Outer Limits of Pastrami.
Anyway, I'm babbling now. I'll stop.
The pastrami there - first of all, am I the only one that has a hard time believing that it's beef? It's beef, right? That's what I'm told. Hard to believe. Weird. Anyway, the pastrami has this sort of intensification-of-meat-flavor going on, with this wonderful intense near-crunchy crust... the only analogue I can think is certain pork barbecue. The best pork experience I've had was at the Interstate BBQ in Memphis, and this is the second best. Even though it's not pork.
It's not pork, right? Christ. It doesn't exactly taste like pork. Yet I compelled by its sheer porkiness....
Probably something to do with association to barbecue.
Anyway, yeah, I have nothing else to say. I figure the split of the pure and the doctored sandwich was just about right. Pure pastrami could have been a bit too overwhelming. But I would've missed it, without any...
Anyway, yeah. I was actually moved at the end of the meal, round about the time that I actually came to believe that I was actually eating what I thought I was eating. There was a little lump in my breast, like you get when you're watching a sad movie and you're trying to not get those little man-tears. Anyway, whatever. Nobody's going to believe this. But I'll say it anyway: I was actually moved.
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