In his introduction to ''The Esquire Encyclopedia of Sandwiches,'' an article in the magazine's March issue, writer Scott Raab announces right off the bat, ``I`m fat.''
That's not what I wanted to hear on the day I was assigned to check the veracity of Esquire's sandwich assessments -- a day on which my bathroom scale had reached new heights.
I soldiered on. The ''Encyclopedia'' claims the seafood salad sandwich at South Beach's La Sandwicherie is worth listing. Can't say I'm surprised. In the '80s, when I was young at heart enough to party on the beach, I was an enthusiastic patron of the joint, particularly at night.
''We never close,'' a French-accented voice told me on the phone when I asked if they did lunch, having never even seen the place in the light of day.
There it was, where I had last left it after picking up favorites of camembert, saucisson sec (which they accurately translate as French salami) or paté.
It had never occurred to me to try the seafood, but then the condition my condition was in when I patronized La Sandwicherie was not given to occurrences. Camembert, saucisson and paté were French and that was good enough for me. Alors!
The staff was just as brusquely efficient, that is, just as French as I remembered. After finding a nice illegal parking spot (I remembered that, too), I stepped up to the counter and asked for my seafood sandwich.
``With everything?''
''With everything,'' I answered, under the spell of a munchies flashback.
''Everything'' pretty much buried the seafood, which was, as Esquire says, lump crab and shrimp. The sandwich was bulging, buckling even, with lettuce, tomatoes, green peppers, cured peppers, olives, cornichons, vinaigrette, all on a crusty chunk of baguette.
It was good. Good enough to make an A-list? Je ne sais pas. Except that I'm all for La Sandwicherie getting its due. Besides, with all those fresh veggies crunching under my teeth, I didn't feel fat at all.
Esquire also lists Latin American Cafeteria on Coral Way for its ''cubano,'' i.e. Cuban sandwich. Indeed, theirs is legendary. Trouble is, the place no longer exists -- a pile of rubble last time I checked.
When I called the number listed in Esquire, a decidedly non-Cuban accent told me in Spanish they were on 40th Street (Bird Road), not Coral Way. I asked if the owners were the same. The (South American?) voice said no and hung up.
South Florida is full of (allegedly) Cuban eateries that carry a name similar to the Coral Way original (Latin American Café, Latin Cafeteria, and so on). But no one has yet to inherit the mantle of a legendary cubano. So, for the time being, Esquire is honoring a ghost.
