Megasandwich

I didn't have a name for this, so I just used Megasandwich. I'll probably use that name a dozen more times in my lifetime to describe other sandwiches.

Following last week's Italian cold cut extravaganza, I thought I'd come up with something special based on my research. Behold, an Italian cold cut sandwich forged with the help of the Greek gods and Pavilions.

A quarter pound of provolone and nearly a half pound each of capicolla, sopressata, and mortadella on French bread. But lo, greater secrets lie hidden within its bowels—Italian stewed tomatoes on the lower bread loaf, olive oil & vinegar and salt & pepper on the upper loaf, golden pepperoncinis between. As a mere mortal, I could only consume a third of this mighty sandwich at any given time.

The stewed tomatoes lent a moisture and sweetness that gave way to the saltiness of the meats before being overcome with the tanginess of the vinegar and spiciness of the pepperoncinis. The flavor profile was like hitting a home run and rounding the bases, if first base was sweet, second base was salty, third base was sour, and home was spicy. Gone was the lettuce and sliced tomato that so often make eating an Italian sandwich an exercise in planning and engineering. Ousted was the less than puny roll or baguette foundation. Instead arise, Megasandwich!

Mathematically, Megasandwich=(capicolla+sopressata+mortadella+provolone)*2+(French bread/2+stewed tomatoes+(olive oil+vinegar)+(salt&pepper)+pepperoncini.