Oh, the ‘mezzo. There’s no better way to show how much it means to me than the twenty or thirty times I’ve returned for tossed green salad with poppyseed dressing. I defended it when elitists complained that it was unfresh, sloppy and low quality. And also when they raised prices from 3.75 to 4.50, because who can even compete with that addictive dressing, not to mention the massive portions and thick, squidgy honey-wheat bread they’re constantly sliding out of the oven?
This was the first restaurant I went to in Berkeley when I moved three years ago, though I don’t remember it making a huge impression on me. But sometime soon after, I started jonesing for that dressing. I don’t care if they put opium in it (no proof) or about sanitation horror stories (no proof) or that there are junkies outside asking for money/salad (proof, but it’s fun to watch through the window). Also, they have a tree in the center of the dining area! I love foliage indoors and can not get over how brilliant that is. Every sandwich I’ve tried there is wonderful, though the pie and soup aren’t stellar enough to distract me from the other items.
also: sobs! this was my last meal together with G and C as roommates. best i’ve ever had.