I’m a realist. I like to keep things open, honest and true. I’m also a sandwich snob – sandwiches are so barebones and simple, that when you fuck it up, you can taste it right away. Many will say that all you have to do is slap some stuff in between some bread and it’s a sandwich – WRONG. Ingredients are integral to a sandwich. The haphazard use of random meats, spreads and vegetables do not equate “sandwich”, nor does the aimless flop of cheese dangling off the sides that was spared the spear of a frilly toothpick. That being said, I have one of the definitive go to spots for sandwiches that is capable to satisfy the biggest sandwich slut, snob such as myself.
I’ll be honest with you; this spot I’m going to talk about has been one of my favourite places. I must admit, I’ve been greedy and selfish to hold back on this one, but I’ve finally come to a decision that it is my duty to share it with you… St. Hubert. Yes, the homegrown rotisserie with bottomless bowls of coleslaw, that features a self-serve gravy pump and who’s “unpretentiousness” makes the grocery store reject poultry palatable. Euh… No, not really. What kind of bush-league blogger would I be to go on and write about frozen fries and mutated chickens that can’t make the commercial market, no matter how crispy the skin is?
If you’ve ever had Chinese steamed sticky rice (糯米包), this is the dumpling version of the same dish.