In the spring of 1993, I was living in a dorm at the University of Connecticut. I had spent a lonely weekend on an nearly empty campus. When my roommate returned around 8:00 Sunday evening, he had a big plate of sandwiches that his mother had made for me. They were great. Everything about them was delicious. The rolls (egg knot rolls that I still remember 20 years later) were so fresh. The ham was moist and tender. I was treated to a perfect storm of sandwich greatness. On Monday, I fired off a thank you note to my roommate's mother.
That was the only year I shared a room with that roommate. We remained friends but he stayed on campus and I moved to some nearby off-campus apartments. Around 8:00 on Easter Sunday for the next three years, he tracked me down and delivered a plate of seriously kick-ass sandwiches to me.
I think of those sandwiches every Easter. His mother and I reminisced about those sandwiches at his wedding a few years ago. A few hours ago, I got an email from him wishing me a happy Easter. Earlier today his mother told the story of those ham sandwiches while she made this one and asked him to send me the picture.
Unfortunately, I don't get to eat this sandwich. It looks really good. But it is nice to know that I'm not the only one who remembers Easter 1993 and those sandwiches with a smile.