Spaghetti Hot dog Sandwich

The spaghetti hot dog sandwich at Clover Cafe is one of the most loving foods I've ever eaten. The first time I purchased one, I was expecting something exotic. But the experience of the sandwich resulted in the rare occasion where my imagination matched my physical experience.

The bun is a simple homemade hot dog bun. It's nothing fancy. Just unseasoned white bread, spongy and compressible by a simple closing of my lips. The sweet and tangy tomato sauce takes me back to cold Sunday mornings when my mom would make me Spaghetti O's in my Stegosaurus bowl. And the half inch Oscar Meyers delicately resting upon the bed of noodles are the perfect salty accent.

I've never had this type of sandwich before Clover Cafe, but the flavors are so comforting, like a wonderful relationship with a woman. But not new relationship full of white-hot sparks and passion; a familiar, long-term relationship with long-burning, tomato-sauce colored embers. The type of long-term warmth and security where coffee cafes are no longer date spots. Where drinking coffee together is a functional activity to consume caffeine because we were up late the night before folding laundry.

This sandwich is lovely in its simplicity and consistency. This sandwich tells me, "it's okay" when I'm mad, hugs me when I'm under pressure. When I've finished eating this perfectly sized meal, I don't feel like a glutton: it knows my appetites and limits. And when I eat this sandwich, I imagine holding the splotched, arthritic hands of my wife I have yet to marry.