Ode To a White Anchovy Sandwich

For the Marinated White Anchovy Sandwich from ‘Wichcraft, Bryant Park Tent, Fashion Week

O sandwich, no one cares for you here.
The briny flesh of silver-backed fish,
The gentle goodness of a soft-cooked egg,
The bracing zing of a salsa verde crushed
Against a minor thicket of frisée:
All these are lost
On a Blackberrying crowd
That won’t drink the free energy drinks
Because they’re caloric.

The strictures of fashion dictate
That your deliciousness shall have no power
Over a group who
If they had to choose between you and a size two
Would always choose the latter, not the fatter.

I am your only admirer.
I know, because I asked. Was there anyone else
Who ordered this sandwich today, or even
All week? No, said the counter lady, hands in pockets.
You’re the only one.


Marie Fromage said...

O sandwich, I too am an ardent admirer
I dream of your tang and crunch
While it is not the fat I fear
It is thy price that gives me pause at lunch!

Anonymous said...

O sandwich, with your yummy white fish
To try you is my wish
To be left alone is such a waste
When you hold such a bounty of taste

ChovyChap 2008