Monday, May 3. Frog Legs And A Cuban. This morning around four-thirty, I awakened from what may have been the most pleasant dream I ever had. I was walking around an unfamiliar city, but somehow knew where I was headed. I took a shortcut through a large field of tall green grass, surrounded by a wooden fence, with a yellow house in the center. A man lying back in a chaise longue, holding a tall lemonade, waved and smiled at me. I didn't recognize him. When I got close to the house, I thought I'd step inside and see if there were any fresh coffee. I saw an open bedroom. I lay down on the bed and took a nap. When I woke up--an action coincident in both the dream and reality, although I couldn't yet tell the difference--I walked into the kitchen and opened the refrigerator. Inside were slices of bread pudding. I ate one. Delicious! The man from the chaise entered. He appeared to recognize me, and wordlessly welcomed me. I thanked him for letting me use his property as if it were mine, and moved on across the field.
The feeling that I was not only welcome here, but in every other place I would go, was marvelous. Even after reality overtook the illusion, I lay there savoring this thought. I didn't want to analyze it too long, though, so I let it lull me back to sleep, in my own bed.
When I awakened again, Mary Leigh was already on her way to school for her first final exam. Three more days of this, and it's over forever! I will not miss the cascade of water falling down the pipe just outside my bedroom when Mary Leigh flushes the upstairs toilet at six a.m.
At mid-morning, Mary Ann once again said she could stand to have lunch with me. We went to VigRoux, the poor boy shop in Mandeville where Darryl's once was. The meal we ate, however, was well outside the realm of a typical sandwich shop. It began with fried frog legs. The frog part of it was terrific. The coating, I thought, was too dense and hard, and didn't stick well to the meat. (I lean toward a light dusting with flour.)
I followed that with a Cuban sandwich, made with smoked pork cut into chunks instead of being sliced. That made it a little hard to eat, but that's my only complaint. The thing was stuffed with ham, cheese, and pickles, and the bread pressed and toasty. The eight-dollar price brought what could pass as two whole sandwiches. I couldn't finish even one of them.
On Mary Ann's side of the table was a club sandwich of absurd proportions. The four quarters could each have been served as a full lunch to a person of normal appetite. They must have a customer base that does a lot more physical labor than I do. (Come to think of it, that would be just about everybody.)
The nonconformity of this meal made it a good subject for the Guess Where Tom Ate? contest. We haven't run that with any regularity since the hurricane. It was a daily feature for about ten years before that. Pat Galloway, our advertising director, came up with a promotion called Green Egg and Ham. We're giving away a Chisesi ham every day for a month, then picking one of the winners to get a Big Green Egg outdoor grill.
The frog legs clue had everybody stumped for awhile. But, as was always the case in the previous run of Guess Where Tom Ate, it's almost impossible to come up with clues that someone won't figure out sooner or later.
VigRoux Po-Boys. Mandeville: 2625 Florida. 985-231-7314 . Sandwiches.
