My own personal cultural war

My girlfriend is mixed. German and African American. In most people’s eyes, she’s black. Whatever. She’s extraordinarily well educated, smart as a whip besides, and comes from a good and noble family. She’s also hot.

Oh, and crazy.

I’m a self made man. Grew up in a trailer and suffered rednecks in my youth.

Here’s the deal. She asserts that Ruffles Cheddar Cheese & Sour Onion and Cream potato chips are better than any cheap brand of BBQ chips, Lays for the sake of argument, on the average sandwich made with cheap white bread.

My point is that although her chips are delicious, and they are, they are too thick and crunchy for the average trailer park white bread sandwich. I believe I have some exclusive expertise in this area. I submit that the delicate crunch and copious grease, as well as the sweet salty seasoning of the inexpensive barbecue chip makes it far more suitable and indeed complimentary to any sandwich prepared with two slices of grocery store brand cheap white bread.

Do you know how easy it is to to transform a slice of such bread into a marble the size of a pinball using only thumb and forefinger? We like our dough.

I suggested to her that her brand may be better suited to a french roll or some kind of bun. This rocked her on her heels. It was like a powerful wind blew between us. I shot at her and she fled the dark alley where we were discussing it. Then she shot back from a corner.

What she doesn’t understand is the texture quotient. It’s low and therefore important. For example, given the thickness and rigidity of her brand, the mere thickness of the enclosure is not the only factor. The texture of her chips require benefit from a further ballast, like thinly sliced pickle and fresh spinach leaves. Moisture. Not too mention lubrication beyond mayo and mustard; condiments like pesto and tapenade necessarily come into play. Moisture. Big bread and dense chips equal dryness.

The secrets of any given sandwich lie in the contrasts of texture, flavor, moisture, sweet and salt.

By now you see the dangerous territory we entered into somewhat haplessly?

The sandwich we are now describing is far beyond the solar system of the humble one we were endeavoring to build with the most common of materials and ingredients.

Let us revisit the trailer. We use those wafer thin slices of ham and turkey from packaging without even a ziploc at the top. A buck twenty nine per, at most. Coat both slices of whitebread with Miracle Whip or real mayonnaise if you can. The cheese should be individually wrapped slices of Velveeta or a suitable off brand that is at least individually wrapped. One slice on each slab. Genrous ketchup on one and generous mustard on the other. A little salt and pepper never hurts. Pile the meat on the mustard side and apply the chips. A dense layer but not more than a third of an inch or so. Use you palm to compress if necessary.

Get yerself a grape fuckin soda.

Bonus question: What kind of chip works best in a milkshake?

Drinks for my friends.

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