Wednesday, April 3, 2013

A Cemita at the Brooklyn Flea

Paul and I planned to eat lunch at the Brooklyn Flea last Saturday, and we weren't changing our plans just because we didn't end up getting there until about 4 p.m.

But it did mean our options were limited. The Flea closes at 5, and a few of the vendors were already packing up. Others had only a limited selection. I was going to be happy so long as I got a doughnut from Dough -- and luckily dulce de leche was one of the three options left. Paul wouldn't be as easily satisfied.

So Paul got in line at Cemita's, which offers its namesake sandwich as well as tacos and a few other items. Since Edith was fussy, I knew I would be eating one-handed, so at the last minute I decided against getting a cemita and stuck with my giant doughnut alone.

The doughnut was delicious, but after trying a few bites of Paul's sandwich, I really, really wanted my own. Bad.

I could try to explain what a cemita is, but this chart does it better than I could ever hope to:

And out of that mountain of meat and toppings, you get this:

Paul said he ate something similar to this cemita when he lived in Mexico for a quarter in college, except there it was on a sweetish soft roll. But they were just as giant.

Paul, without a baby on his lap, had both hands free to stuff the cemita in his mouth. Excellent, he proclaimed. The beef tasted like it was stewed instead of roasted as you would expect, he said.

A $9 sandwich isn't cheap -- especially when you have to fight for a folding chair and table as you do at the Brooklyn Flea's makeshift cafeteria. But even I have to admit this sandwich was worth every penny. Next time, Paul's holding Edith: I'm getting my own cemita.

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