Ode To This Really Bomb Turkey Croissant I just Ate
I recently discovered the new coffee place at the Centro de estudiantes. Not long after that, I also found their food options.
I say discovered like I trekked across an ocean or something to gain great knowledge, but it was up on the wall and I should have seen it before. One thing out of their menu stood out to me, though, and judging by the title of this piece, you guys already know which one it is (That is, if the editor would even let me have my first written piece include both the words turkey and bomb in it, because it might just make people think about exploding turkeys. But I digress). And in case it isn’t already plainly stated, it’s the turkey croissant. The king of the croissants, as I have recently learned. By this point, I hope you guys have excused my ignorance about the basic eating places on campus, and can indulge me in a bit of hyperbole about something as basic as a sandwich.
I first tried the coffee in Coop. I mainly drink coffee the same way people stub their toes in the dark; I know I’m not going to like it. it’s bitter, and I need a ton of sugar. But like with the box I know is on my way between the door and my bed, I still hit it, and hit it I do, because sometimes you need to have a socially mandated moment where you can sit down and mindlessly scroll through Twitter, and coffee does that for me. The coffee at the Cafe Coop is good, (again, this comes from a person who couldn’t recognize the difference between Yaucono and Starbucks but *will* still drink both) and their sizes are manageable enough that I don’t end up with a cold cup, so the first two times I went there I’d order a cup, sit down, and ignore the world.
On my third visit though, I decided to broaden my horizons, and went for something to eat. Probably because it was lunch time and I didn’t want to wither away into nothingness at the Burger King line a floor below. Looking at my options, I went with the one that seemed more tame, the one that I knew I’d enjoy because who doesn’t enjoy turkey, (I am aware of the irony of saying I broadened my horizons and then went with the tame option. Hardy har har.) and damn it if I didn’t honestly enjoy it, and damn it if before writing this article I didn’t eat one, too.
I can firmly tell you that the love hasn’t diminished, and much like some Lovecraftian God that haunts the dreams of the protagonist, this sandwich haunts my stomach. It calls to me in the dark when I’m nursing a stubbed toe, it calls to me right now as I write this, the texture of the turkey slices, the almost perfectly melted cheese and whatever crack they put in the butter that takes such a normal piece of food into the object of my longing. And much like Cthulhu and other forgotten gods, it will probably drive me insane.
So flaky, so good.