Pamela's Diner

I figured an establishment whose founders had been summoned to the White House to make pancakes for President Obama's Memorial Day breakfast would serve an outstanding club sandwich.

And the turkey on this club was certainly out of the ordinary: slabs of carved roast turkey breast, like Thanksgiving Day leftovers, not like deli turkey at all.

In the company of Presidential-quality pancakes, I expect a higher standard of club sandwich ingredients. The turkey was first-rate; the tomato was world-class, so why were they on a sandwich with processed American cheez fuud and Big-Mac-style lettuce?

And even though the pickle garnishes were adorable, they left the toast all mushy on top.

Eat'n Park (Edgewood)

It stands to reason that the same restaurant which offers such a tantalizing variety of Smiley Face Cookie colors would offer a chromatic banquet of frill picks on their club sandwich. Green! Blue! Yellow! Even an unusual orange one. Maybe they have a big vat of them back in the kitchen, frill picks to match every color of the Smiley Cookie palette.

And speaking of vats, this club sandwich comes with a petite vat of mayonnaise in the center of the plate. The diner can choose how little or how much mayo to put on the sandwich. It's all about empowering the customer, I guess.

I didn't feel empowered. I felt put-out. Would it really have been that much trouble for the chef to spread some mayo on the toast? Maybe it's not about customer empowerment at all, maybe it's just more cost-effective to have the customer finish preparing the sandwich.

Luckily, the carnival of frill picks jollied me right out of my disappointment in the mayo situation.
The sandwich was tasty: lots of salty bacon, thick piles of shaved turkey. The tomatoes were fresh and flavorful. The cheese was unnecessary, but it wasn't bad, and at least I didn't have to put it on the sandwich myself.

It was a good sandwich, though. By the end of the meal, I looked like this.