No sandwich contains more of my favorite things than the muffaletta. Olives, cheese, cured meats and really good bread come together in this handheld glory, which hails from New Orleans. I know it’s terrible, but cured meats are my favorite of the meats. They’re also terrible for us in pretty much every way. So I enjoy them here and there, and I don’t eat a lot of meat otherwise. Because if it’s not packed with carcinogens, it’s just meh.
I discovered the muffaletta later in life, which is probably for the best. But I can’t help but think if I’d made it to New Orleans in 2004, I might have discovered it then. A friend and I roadtripped there, before cellphones, blissfully oblivious to Hurricane Ivan’s arrival. We made it pretty close, but it was getting dark and we couldn’t find a campground or motel with vacancy. We were getting gas when a man approached us after seeing our Missouri license plates and asked what in the world we were doing. Where were we headed? Where were we going to stay? Did we know New Orleans was advised to evacuate?