Turkey Sandwich Review

This restaurant serves four sandwiches and nothing else. Turkey, tuna fish, roast beef, and something I can't remember, probably ham. This is actually more like a bar with a guy who happens to make sandwiches. They don't so much have a kitchen, he just turns around. You get chips from a bag, mac salad, and pickle, but you have to ask for each one. All on paper plate. My mac also had tuna in it. I opted for the Russian dressing option on my sandwich, while my companion chose plain tuna fish.

It all sounds good on paper except what comes is four inches of fresh sliced slime-loaf on untoasted dressing-wet Wonderbread. No lettuce or bacon, and even less flavor. Less than no flavor? Yes, this sandwich actually sucks previous flavor experiences back out of your tongue, reversing the entire flavor process and creating a distortion in the flavor-space continuum.

In the pictures below we have added a steel worker for scale. The extra hunk of turkey you see is the part I removed from the half of the sandwich I did eat. Why did I take such a horrible sandwich home with me? Here is the conversation that happened at the end of my meal.

Bartender (who also made the sandwich): How is everything?
Me: Great, thanks. Hey, I'll need a box to take home the other 95% of my sandwich.
Bartender: Ok, no problem. What happened to your appetite?
Me: What happened to your portion control? How much meat is that, a pound or so?
Bartender: It's enough. There ya go, you can pick up a loaf of bread on your way home and make three or four more sandwiches.

I'm probably not going to eat it, but in the two and a half hours that have passed since we first ventured out of the house in search of bourbon glazed steak with smashed potatoes, I have become retroactively fonder of the restaurant experience as well as the sandwich itself.