Lunchtime on a workday. Although I can conceive of someone lovingly packing a soft-sided lunchbox full of chicken salad, flecked with golden raisins, a side of crispy carrot slaw and a refreshing bottle of chilled mineral water -- well, as Bob Dylan says, it ain't me, babe. If it's you, we will keep your application on file in case a position becomes available.
Anyway, until Prince or Princess Charming comes along, we corporate wage slaves are at the whim of the nearby luncheonette. Thus we find ourselves, one thunderstormy day, headed to AYNIE'S DELI in Covington (333 Scott St., Covington, 859-491-2233), one of several Aynie's locations that serve the nutrition needs of prisoners in high-rise office towers. (Hours: 7 a.m.-2 p.m. weekdays.)
I had the gang select the sandwiches of their dreams from Aynie's online menu (aynies.bizland.com), and we called in our order about a half-hour ahead of time. When we arrived at the IRS Gateway Center to claim our goodies, someone else had already picked them up! Weird. Someone, using the same fake name we used, ordered the same food we ordered, and a nice lady with a tan picked it up. It ain't me, babe, once again.
Never mind! The clearly befuddled staff at Aynie's reconstructed the order in just a few minutes, and we headed back to Cubicle Hell where our hungry co-workers had only just begun to gnaw their partitions.
Into the paper bags we plunged. So much food to fuel our diligence for the afternoon, to keep us on task, to inspire our dedication to making money for our greedy multinational capitalist overlords. Or to help us surf the Net and play online Medal of Honor. It just depends on how you look at it. Or, in our case, who's looking.
The favorite sandwich was the double-decker ($5.95), jam-packed with turkey, ham and roast beef. Satisfying, yet manageable with one hand -- keeping that other hand free for firing those big bazookas, err, I mean, updating those spread sheets, boss!
The roast beef and provolone sandwich ($4.85) was another winner, with special mention going to the horseradish sauce. We also had a roast beef and provolone wrap, the "Philly" ($4.95), which sadly lacked the excellent sauce and had, instead, a slice of red onion that was strong enough to cause hallucinations. Luckily, hallucinations at work can be called a "vacation benefit."
The day's special ($5.75), cod with mac and cheese, only needed a little salt and pepper to become ... adequate. But in the summer, when fruit is at its peak, canned pineapple and mandarin orange sections make an uninspired fruit cup.
The chicken ranch wrap ($4.95) benefited from tasty bacon. I heard several of our tasting crew mumble, "Mmm, tha burd ish goo." After dining among these natives for many moons, I know that in their patois that means, "Indeed, this bread is good."
