Girl Cheese Sammich
As we say goodbye to National Grilled Cheese Sandwich month and hello to National Sammich Month, I want to take the opportunity to tell you briefly about my personal relationship with grilled cheese sandwiches. You see, when I was a tiny, little girl…so tiny that the world was still a place of only beauty and wonder and no Bad Things, I believed that grilled cheese sandwiches were a special invention made just for ME.
Back in those days of yore, my dad (before he was a professional bass fisherman or a preacher or even a dad) was a pool shark. In Los Angeles, California, where he made his living in the pool halls as a young man, he was known as “Sixth Street Jerry.” In Long Beach, where he also played from time to time (and where he met my mom–in a pool hall), they called him “L.A. Jerry.” One of my earliest memories is going to the pool hall with my parents, where my dad would shoot pool (which I remember only vaguely) and my mom and I would sit in a booth with red seats and I would order a Girl Cheese Sandwich with fries (because that was the point of the whole expedition as far as I was concerned).
Of course, I had no idea why the waitress and all the adults made such a fuss over the whole thing. I just wanted my sandwich. And my French fries! But I imagine them now doing that thing grownups do where we know the kid’s about to do that cute thing they do, and they say, “Watch! Listen! Okay, Rosie, what do you want to eat?”
“GIRL CHEESE!” I’d holler, and they’d all “aww” and titter and pat me on the head.
And yes, I assumed that if my dad wanted a sandwich like mine, he’d have to ask for a Boy Cheese Sandwich, but he never did that I recall. Sixth Street Jerry was too busy bringing home the pork rinds, baby.
These days grilled cheese sammiches are still a favorite, and one of my comfort foods (along with mac & cheese), and I still occasionally refer to them as feminine without ever checking under their bread to find out whether I’m right. That probably makes me a sammich sexist, for which I’m deeply sorry, and will surely pay in the afterlife. Till then, Girl Cheese Sammiches for all my friends!
National Sammich Month starts TOMORROW! What’s your favorite sandwich?
PS: I apologize for that terrifying image above. I really wanted to use an appetizing photo of a nice, melty grilled cheese to make your mouth water, but then I found ^that^, and come on, how could I resist? It would have been wrong–possibly immoral or even illegal–for me to not use that image in this article. So, to make up for it, here’s a photo of me just before I learned to say “Girl cheese sammich, please!” Love ya!