The Third Treatise on Grilled Cheese Sandwiches

I have found that people who are drinking will listen to a bartender talk about ANYTHING.  They will stand there, drink in hand, with their attention totally rapt, listening to the bartender wax poetic.  Now, to a normal bartender, this is no big deal.  They just talk about things in their life, the weather, sports, and the internet.

This was the most sympathetic looking bartender I could find

Then there are the other people, like me.

I cannot lie. I literally keep a list of topics to talk to people about.  This quirk was mentioned in a previous post and I am not quite sure that the severity of this condition was completely grasped.  Usually, I limit myself to topics where I know 87% more than the average person knows.  That way, they leave the conversation feeling like they got knowledged...in the face.

I am Italian.  Anyone who has seen me can tell that instantly (I cannot tell if that is because of my blonde hair, my blue eyes, or the way that I tell them that they are going to sleep with the fishes).  As a consequence of this genetic blessing, I believe that there are not five love languages, but six.  And the sixth language is food.  There is nothing that I know 87% more about than food.

Now, imagine combining these two annoying traits with people who are willing to listen to anything.

Last week, a group of tour-goers experienced the great pleasure of the "Third Treatise on Grilled Cheese Sandwiches."  This conversation literally lasted for 30 minutes AND PEOPLE LISTENED AND ASKED QUESTIONS THE WHOLE TIME.

This is how I picture the following conversation in my head.

The conversation began innocently enough.  It was a group of servers from a restaurant, and I had asked if they served grilled cheese and how exactly it was served.  They answered nicely and then one of them asked me the fatal question of whether or not I would want to eat it with ketchup (or "catsup" as they say in places where English is not spoken).  The contents of the next 30 minutes of conversation can be broken down into the following three truths, which I hold to be self-evident:

• Grilled cheeses served on white bread must have American cheese.  That sandwich must be cut into four squares and served with ketchup.  It must be served with a Helles Lager.   

Something is wrong with this picture - This sandwich was mutilated when they cut it into triangles instead of squares when they served it with ketchup.

• Grilled cheeses using sharp cheddar cheese must be served on wheat bread.  That sandwich has to be cut into two triangles.  It may be served with tomato soup, depending upon the eater's preferences.  It pairs perfectly with a Copperhead Ale.

Perfection

• This final method of grilled cheesiness was a recipe the coolest kid I ever met in college shared with me while we were working the fryalator in the cafeteria.  This grilled cheese is made on wheat bread with mozerrella cheese.  It is cooked with garlic salt in the butter in which the bread is cooked.  This sandwich absolutely must be cut into four triangles (it promotes dunkability) and served with marinara sauce.  The Tavern Ale compliments the garlic to perfection.

4 Triangles -- Needs Marinara and Tavern Ale

People tell me that my obsession with perfect grilled cheese sandwiches (and food in general) is ridiculous.  To those naysayers, I ask: Was Mozart ridiculous when he wrote perfect music? Also, when was the last time you walked into a restaurant and the waiter walked to your table with a grilled cheese, made exactly the way that you ranted that it should be a week ago, paired it with the correct beer, and gave it to you for free WITHOUT YOU EVER ORDERING? Cause for me, that was yesterday.