Larder Delicatessen and Bakery is just down the street from where P and me quarantine. It’s amazing. And delicious. Like James Beard Award Nominee amazing and delicious.
Larder’s potato salad would make Meg Ryan have an actual orgasm. The homemade brownies might do the same.
If Zeus and Jupiter ever descended from the heavens for a lunch sit-down, they’d dine at Larder. Zeus would try the pastrami. Jupiter the chicken sandwich. They’d both be right. And they’d both end their lunch more satisfied than on any other visit to Earth.
Larder is that good.
And Larder is where P and I went for lunch last Saturday.
P ordered the bacon cheeseburger. Chicken sandwich for me. We would share the orgasmic potato salad.
Once home, I unwrapped my sandwich. A chunk of chicken goodness dressed with some slaw had broken free. I scooped it into my mouth. Licked the extra sauce from my finger. Then started in on the sandwich.
P asked me for a small bite after a minute or two. “All gone,” I told her.
A few hours later, I had gotten into the gin and gotten a little hungry. I checked the refrigerator. All Guiness and Modelo up top. Then searched one of the crisper drawers, hoping for a spare string cheese.
Instead, I found P’s cheeseburger half-eaten and wrapped in its paper wrap and tucked into the corner of the drawer, mostly hidden by an extra bottle of Prosecco from the holidays.
I peaked at the burger. Bacon, onions, pickles, and a patty spilled from the bun too tempting to resist. So, I took a small bite. And it tasted good.
Like, so d**n good.
But, I only had the one bite. Then I wrapped the burger in its wrapper and tucked it into its hiding place.
The sun set. The gin continued. So, too, did my nibbling. Every 30 minutes or so I snuck another bite. The next two were small and after the second at least ⅓ of the burger remained. P might not even notice if I stopped now.
But I couldn’t stop.
I kept eating.
Thirty minutes later I had finished P’s bacon cheeseburger. And I felt like s**t because she wanted to save her leftover. Now, I had stolen them.
There’d be some h**l to pay when she found out..
I formed a plan. Took a plain bagel from the pantry. Then a tan notecard from our stationary stash. Wrote on the card:
Sorry, boo.
Larder is a temptress. And I’m its victim.
This card is an I.O.U. - Good for lunch there whenever you wish.
The sandwich was delicious, for what that’s worth.
I’m sorry.
Love,
K
I wrapped the bagel and card in what had been the cheeseburger’s wrapper and braced for impact.
Friends- P accepted my apology. But the ground I walk on shakes. If there’s a lesson here, it’s as simple as not stealing your partner’s leftover cheeseburger.
We love you.
And we’ll see you when we see you.
