Anyway I grabbed a Which Wich sandwich for dinner last night on a break from the job that pays me, and it was delicious. But it was also evil.
Here's how the place works for those of you not in the know. You go in, and there are ten bags you can choose from, each labeled with a sandwich type (Turkey, Italian, Vegetarian, etc.). So you pick a bag. Then there are a couple of sandwich options on there (For Italian: Grinder, Meatball, Pizza, etc.). You pick your sandwich option, using a red sharpie (provided). You pick your bread (White or Wheat). You then can check off all different types of sauces and toppings. (Oil and Vinegar, banana peppers, three different types of onions, mayo, etc.). Then you write your name at the bottom so they can call it out when they're done.
OK, so then you give the lady your bag, she charges you and forces a fake smile and punches your frequent-eater card. They hang the bags facing toward the preparer so that if you put a smiley face or a phallus or whatever on the back of the bag you can watch the progress of your sandwich. This step can be skipped if it's not too busy, or you can do it anyway just for the hell of it.
UPDATE: Ok, I'm editing here, I added this at the end. I've used the word sandwich throughout. Which Wich employees do not offer you the same courtesy. The call them "wiches," which I suppose reinforces the brand name or whatever. When they call out your sandwich and name, they say, "Hot wich for Steve," (if your name is Steve); it's kinda ridiculous when they're busy because it's like, um, I know what I ordered why are you telling everyone else? I'll stick with the full sandwich throughout because I hate abreevs, u kno?
END UPDATE
Here's where Which Wich is evil. The damn sandwich is too small. I don't know if insulting a sandwich's size carries the same weight as, say, insulting a man's package (two phallus references, one blog post, limit exceeded - blogger.com). It is true, though; the damn thing is smaller than say, Firehouse's medium, or Beezer's or Jimmy John's. But it's toasty and delicious, and it's fun to not have to talk much when ordering and always getting what you want.
OK I've stalled on the evil thing. It's evil because your instinct, upon your second visit and beyond, is to check off as much as possible when you're at the bag-scribbling part. Sure, you don't really want mushrooms and bell peppers and oil and vinegar AND mayo and mustard on that turkey sub, but you're worried you will still be hungry when the damn thing is over so you overcompensate. And it still tastes good, a little intense and weird, but good (it's toasted, I've mention this before).
While your taste-buds are working overtime and generally throwing a raucous party it's your stomach that has to clean up the morning after. Or, in the case of an overloaded Which Wich, it's usually about three hours later. I don't feel the need to get detailed here, but you know what I'm talking about.
(It's the shits, btw).
So there you have it. My review of Which Wich.
Want more restaurant reviews? Leave a comment. Pick a restaurant. I'll try to do it.
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