The comedic stylings of Half & Half
Everybody has a morning routine. Here’s mine: Wake. Shower. Don’t shave. Feed dogs. Curse the sight of my warm bed. Hop a bus or bike. Stomp into the office. Stumble down to Half & Half like a fiending junkie for my morning fix. It’s only at the last point in the morning ritual that life feels it’s not trying to gouge my eye out with its thumb.
Mainly because my caffeine dealer, Half & Half, is without a doubt the best coffee shop in town. I’ve sung their praises before, but mainly for the typically smile-inducing music (Neutral Milk Hotel at 9 a.m.? Sign me up.) or the joint’s ability to constantly produce the best, stiffest americano in town.
This morning though I smiled for another reason. I rarely get a chance to go there for lunch but the rotating cast of hand-made sandwiches always look impressive. And not just because they’re always jammed with more meat, fine cheese, and local vegetables than most. It’s how they name the sandwiches that makes me swoon. Past entries have included the Greg Oden, the, uhm, "Ham Job" and the infamous "Mama Cass," another take on the ham sandwich that nods to the supposed cause of death for the Mamas and Papas singer.
Today’s entries were a little more topical. First up was the Ricardo Montalban (black bean puree, roasted squash, pickled onions, tomatoes, and cilantro), then it was the Blagojevich (black forest ham, spinach, red onions, and horseradish), and the Breedlove (turkey, chevre, grilled leek, and fennel). For the record that’s one dead celebrity, a politician, and a commoner who just became a celebrity by killing the career of a politician.
To top it all off, Nick Drake’s "Hazy Jane" was drizzling from the speakers like codeine.
It’s gonna be a good day.
Speaking of Janes…here’s a clip of Lou Reed performing "Sweet Jane" from 1974. In light of our recent beard expose, this mustache heavy jam seems appropriate.