Published September 4, 2009
Catharine Fulton: Hey Louder! What should we have for lunch today?
Rebecca Louder: Hey Fulton! Let’s go to Nonnabiti!
Fulton got the prawn sub, substituting mushrooms for green peppers and adding pickles to the bunch. Everything is good with salted pork.
Louder opted for the beef and cheese sub, with lettuce and pickled red peppers – though she couldn’t really taste the cheese. Disappointment.
CF: I’ve never had Nonnabiti sober, this is going to be quite the test.
RL: Me neither, actually. I’ve eaten it once and I was really hammered.
CF: It’s a convenient place to come drunk. I loves me some salted pork!
RL: Is that what it is?
CF: It’s pork.
RL: I thought it was ham.
CF: It’s pork. Same animal.
RL: Same magical animal! How can one animal produce so many good meats?
CF: You know what else it produces? Since pigs don’t sweat, butchers will sometimes cut into an exploding ball of puss and mucus trapped inside the flesh.
RL: This is really good conversation for eating.
CF: I loves me some salted pork.
RL: I’m glad I’m eating beef right now.
CF: I don’t like beef.
RL: Do they have pumpkins here?
CF: mm-mm (that’s ‘no’ with a mouth full of Nonnabiti)
RL: Then how the hell would I make pumpkin pie? Do they have canned pumpkin?
CF: mm-mm (also ‘no’ with a mouth full of Nonnabiti)
CF: You’d have to settle for sweet potato pie in that case.
CF: Have you ever had it?
RL: Actually, sweet potato pie is delicious.
CF: It tastes the same as pumpkin pie, with spices and shit.
RL: Lots of cinnamon.
RL: Lots of whipped cream.
CF: Yeah. As every pumpkin-slash-sweet potato pie should have.
CF: A little bit of nutmeg. Some all spice, if you will. Moist, buttery crust.
RL: Why aren’t we having that right now?
At this point in the conversation we developed an elaborate business plan that may very well lead us to great riches. Keep an eye on us; we’re moving on to bigger and better things. Things that involve pumpkins.
CF: I’ve hit a wall.
RL: I’m hitting a wall too. It’s not the same when you’re not drunk. There’s something about alcohol that gives you a completely hollow leg and you can just pack food in there until you don’t know what’s what. But when you’re sober you know your limits and you don’t have to eat the full twelve inches of Nonnabiti sandwich.
CF: Thirty centimetres. I shouldn’t have gotten the carbonated beverage with my sandwich, it’s taking up too much space in my stomach.
RL: Carbonated beverages actually make more space in your stomach.
RL: It’s true.
CF: Really!? Huh.
Super Canadian Verdict:
It’s no poutine, eh, but it’ll get ‘er done after a 2-4 o’ Molson’s.