SUPPORT YOUR LOCAL CYNIC: Muncie has multiple sandwich options

I love hypothetical questions. I love being posed questions that make me look at myself introspectively, because, through that self-examination, I have the potential to become more self-aware of who I am and what my morals are.

There are the standard classics like, "If you could be stranded on a desert island with only one book, what book would you choose?" or "Which would you choose to save from drowning in a river: an elderly hobo or a burlap sack full of golden retriever puppies?" There's one hypothetical question that often gets brought up that I find not to be an actual soul-searching insight, but rather a matter of common sense; that question being, "If you could only eat one food for the rest of your life, what food would you choose?" The answer, of course, is the sandwich. Not only would I choose the sandwich, I'd choose it enthusiastically. In fact, if tomorrow, an angel came up to me and told me for the rest of my life, I could eat nothing but sandwiches, my initial reaction would be, "Really? That's awesome!"

The reason behind this is simple - diversity. The sandwich, aside from being incredibly delicious, is also extremely diverse. Basically anything between two pieces of bread qualifies as a sandwich - with the exception of ground beef, because that would technically make it a burger. And being a sandwich aficionado in Muncie is great, because there is a plethora of sandwich options in this town; a virtual smorgasbord of sandwich opportunity. Muncie may have pothole-addled roads and perpetually grey skies, but it really makes a delicious sandwich. Although there are plenty of places in Muncie that offer a superb sandwich experience, I've noticed that serious sandwich junkies have four main haunts around town.

Subway restaurants are for those who are in the mood for the classic sandwich. They offer straightforward submarine sandwiches, and even though their tomatoes taste like they are leftover from the Reagan administration, their pickles are probably the best in the business.

And if you live in Muncie, there is a Subway nearby: Muncie boasts eight stores within town limits. My main problem with Subway is that it doesn't refer to white bread as "white bread" but "Italian bread." Everyone in the country calls it white bread except Subway. It makes me wonder what Subway is trying to hide.

Jimmy John's in the Village is another great sandwich spot and a college-community staple. It doesn't give you the option to build your own sandwich like Subway, but it doesn't matter because the cleverly named house sandwiches are great as is. And Jimmy John's is fast. This is in part due to the fact that there are rarely ever fewer than four people working behind the counter, and apparently, teamwork makes great sandwiches. This makes me wonder what the sandwiches tasted like in communist Russia. Probably spectacular.

Penn Station Subs is new to the area, but its hot sandwich reputation is impeccable. It makes a mean Philly cheesesteak, and the great thing about Penn Station's subs is that they are sloppy. Sloppiness can either make or break a great sandwich, and Penn Station has it right. Its Italian sub tastes like it has been soaked in Italian dressing; it's breathtaking.

Muncie's holy grail of sandwiches, though, is available at Mancino's. It calls its sandwiches "grinders," which is a New England term meaning, I can only assume, "badass sandwich." Its grinders are like ecstasy betwixt two slices of bread. In fact, I've never had the urge to try the drug ecstasy, because I've had Mancino's grinders and I can only presume that the high that ensues after consuming each would be the same.

Paul Metz is a secondary education graduate student and writes 'Support Your Local Cynic' for the Daily News. His views do not necessarily agree with those of the newspaper.

Write to Paul at pjmetz@bsu.edu.


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