You know what I hate? Breakfast foods. Hear me out—y’all know I’m a slut for some pancakes, I think French toast is a love language, and I’m a simp for sausage. So, when I say “I hate breakfast foods,” it’s definitely not that I hate the foods. What I hate is the concept of certain foods that should be exclusively eaten at a certain time of day. Why aren’t pancakes a popular dessert? Why aren’t more of us slurping noodles for breakfast? Why does Western culture have such a weird and limited definition of breakfast? That said, I just had what could easily become my new favorite breakfast sando: chiefly because it panders to my food-crushes while subverting breakfast expectations…breakxpectations, if you will. Why can’t we just exist in our own timelines and enjoy things in our own time? Shouldn’t living life be a deeply personal experience? Why should we wilt under the crushing weight of breakxpectations when our adoration isn’t a question open for debate? We know what it is that we want: whether it’s conventional or not. We know what makes us happy.
If you’re in the Winona Lake area in the morning, go to Light Rail Cafe and try the Mortadella Breakfast Sandwich. No breakfast sandwich before has ever brought me so much unbridled happiness–got me smiling like an idiot and acting stupid for another taste. I’ll be real: not all bagels are created equal. Their sesame bagel serves as a passable (though would, if I could, trade it for another) vessel to transport mortadella, Dijonnaise, pickles, and a hard fried egg to your eager gob. That’s right, babies, I think we should all be eating more breakfast sandos with morty-d. Savory and slightly smoky, there are literally zero reasons to call bacon a “breakfast food” but then turn around and act like mortadella isn’t for the morning hours. Morty-d belongs on all tables at all hours of the day. Period. As for the pickles and mustard? I’ve already recently told you—try to keep me away. This applies to any pickled produce and all mustards or mustard-centric condiments, too. Where they go, I will follow. Perhaps these are foods that are not typical in the morning hours, but I’m done trying to play it cool. I want to wake up to them. I want them to be there in the morning. As for the hard fried egg? Not my favorite style egg, but if the yolk was runny this sando would be an absolute mess to consume. I am well aware that I don’t need more mess in my life—so, I suppose, my fingies and face can appreciate and respect the choice. It’s the right choice. Even if it’s not the choice I would make for myself: it’s valid.
Not everything about this sandwich is perfect, but I still think it’s the perfect breakfast sandwich for me. Sandwiches, like people, don’t have to be perfect to have value. Nothing has to be perfect to be wanted–and fuck, do I want this sandwich. I won’t be able to enjoy it as often as I’d like–an hour is a long way to go just for an early morning sando. But will I crave it? Of course. Enjoy it when I’m able? Certainly. Miss it wretchedly and count the pointless minutes until I can taste it again? Yes. Nothing is perfect. But a breakfast sando doesn’t have to be perfect to be perfectly delicious. And it doesn’t have to be conventional or follow all the rules (or ANY rules) that our stupid society has laid out to define what is or isn’t appropriate for breakfast. In fact: I’m glad it breaks the fucking rules. I don’t want a conventional breakfast sandwich. I want a slightly anarchist breakfast sandwich. I want it to sidestep breakxpectations. I want it to be for me: and not just cater to the tastes of every single boring AF person who has ever existed in our basic little bacon, egg, and cheese on white bread society. I’m not trying to get my tongue burned or my stomach twisted in knots on a daily basis–but I don’t want to be white-bread-bored, either. I want mortadella, mustard, and pickles. I just want what I like and I want it whenever I can have it. Breakxpectations be damned.
Plonk & Pleasure 
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