Under protest I joined my lunch comrades for a Subway run. I figured I'd be a high roller today and get the Pastrami foot-long, an eight-dollar investment with the hopeful payoff that there might me some actual taste to this meat, instead of the reconstituted, pre-sliced kitchen sponge they offer at more tolerable prices.
On my first bite I got a flake of pretty decent-tasting pastrami nestled in layers of smooshy fat. I figured it was a fluke so I pressed on. Nope, same thing. Blobs of globules.
About halfway into the sandwich (yes, I kept eating. Hey, it was eight bucks!) I started to hit some real tricky bits that had the presumed meat marbled with more firm slabs of grizzle and fat. And the grease - oh, the grease - it really started oozing out of the sides.
Giving up hope that the fat was an anomaly I started to spit it back out. I mean, I have a second half of my work day - I can't be laid up with the shits, I have things to do. And let me tell you, this sandwich was so full of greasy fat that I actually started lining up the rejected clumps on my wrapper in case of cataclysmic gastrointestinal disaster. I wanted the remnants of my sandwich laying next to my corpse so the evidence technician could have easy access.
So what you see here in this gross photo is the sludge (too gelatinous and snotty to call "parts") that I hadn't already thrown away. Imagine about ten times this much gooey, gelatinous pig fat in your stomach and think twice before trying the EIGHT DOLLAR BIG HOT SUBWAY PASTRAMI MELT sandwich. When it comes to food I have surprisingly low standards, yet I doubt I'd ever consider eating one of these gut-bombs again.