Fearless Leader, a staunch vegetarian, has maintained a healthy moratorium on demon flesh for more than a decade. The other day, though, out of the blue, she said there is something that is tempting her to fall off the meatwagon. A nicely trimmed filet? No. A pork tenderloin, slow-roasted with garlic and ginger? No. An Arby's roast beef sandwich—one of those 5-for-$5 gutbombs of indeterminate origin?
I haven't had the heart (or stomach) to ask if she went through with it: it sounds like breaking your 20-year vow of celibacy for two minutes in the back of an El Camino with Tara Reid. But after checking out Aunt B.'s thread
on the glories of the Arby's Chicken Salad Wrap, I've gotta say that familiar craving is coming back. I am not susceptible in the slightest to Big Macs or Whoppers, but Arby's I find scarily hard to resist. Why doesn't Arby's rouse the same disgust as the rest of the fast-food nation?