I actually have this strange history with sandwiches. Until that fateful day at Potbelly’s, I never really ate them that much. Not because I didn’t like them, but more because I seemed to always feel compelled to have a hot meal. Cold cuts were, well, cold; and hot sandwiches were expensive and, at least according to my feeble young mind, just a lame attempt at replacing a hamburger. But I can’t honestly say that it was all Potbelly’s that turned me on to sandwiches. They were more like the sandwich shop that was in the right place at the right time – I was in my twenties, working so I had more disposable income, my tastes were evolving, and I was starting to be a little more conscious of healthier eating (though I concede that pretty much anyone’s italian sandwich can go toe to toe calorie-wise with a hamburger). I could have walked into any dump of a sandwich shop at the time and it probably would have had the same effect on my psyche. I was primed for change. But Potbelly’s was there, and for that they forever hold a place in my digestive heart as the matchmaker for me and the sandwich.

Unfortunately, the pedestal that time, distance, and nostalgia led me to place Potbelly’s on also has opened them up to vicious attacks from the unenlightened. “Went to Potbelly’s last week, and it is no different than Quiznos,” a friend boldly states, cowardly hiding behind 394 miles of internet-plated armor. Conceptually he’s right. They’re both purveyors of (primarily) hot sandwiches, employing a similar assembly line then oven then assembly line format for customizing your meal with various accoutrements. But that’s like saying that his beloved Jimmy John’s is the same thing as going to Subway. Jimmy John’s and Subway both cut their teeth on the classic cold cut sandwich, although Subway, for reasons outside of the scope of this conversation, has had to vary their product a little more since then. In fact, I’d argue that Jimmy John’s and Potbelly’s are more similar than their vastly different sandwich products would otherwise imply.

I’ll put it to you this way, you walk into a Potbelly’s or a Jimmy John’s, and you’re met with the same hasty approach to taking your order. “What are you having, what do you want on it, and why aren’t you telling me faster?”. Their menus are relatively simple, lacking diversity which isn’t needed for their niche market (they’re a niche, they are the diversity!). They don’t really make similar sandwiches, but compare them to their lower-end sandwich counterparts (Quiznos and Subway, respectively) and the breads are better, the meats are better, and probably the prices are higher (all subjective except for the price bit).

Regardless of your preference, there is clearly a class barrier that separates these groups of sandwich shops. Quiznos isn’t trying to serve the same market as Potbelly’s, at least not in the same way. In the case of me and my antagonist, his proclomation that a Quiznos sandwich is as good or better than a similar sandwich from Potbelly’s is clearly biased as a reaction against the aforementioned exalted status I’ve given to Potbelly’s rather than a rational food critique. I understand the point, as it’s a perfectly reasonable admonition of my own history of reacting strongly against extreme passion for one’s favorite band, book or movie. But the comment is reckless, rash, and misdirected and I cannot and will not allow a personal vendetta to bring down one of the greatest heros of our time.

Before I go on, let me interject this short story. There are a lot of things that you know are going to change when you get married, especially if you don’t live together before the union becomes official. Never in a million years did I think one of the changes I’d have to consider would be getting rid of my rice cooker. Then I come to find out that Beth is anti-specialized kitchen appliances (like quesadilla makers, waffle makers, bread ma— well not bread makers apparently because she has one of those) and suddenly I’m trying to think of how I can cook hot pockets or grilled cheese sandwiches in the rice cooker. I remember being in college and seeing Dan pour rice into a pot on the stove and thinking, “What the heck are you doing? You don’t cook rice on a stove?” How in the world was I ever going to enjoy steamed rice again without my trusty rice cooker? In the end, the rice cooker got to stay in what can only be described as God’s amazing grace.

Ok so where did I leave us? Oh yes, the venerable conventional rice cooker! Well one of the things I’ve always wondered but never really explored was how the rice cooker works. I mean how does it steam rice so perfectly? I’m somewhat curious, but not really mechanically or electronic circuitly inclined so poking around the apparatus has yielded somewhat shaky results. Because the heating element has a sort of coily, springy action to it I thought maybe there was some weight factor involve but I never could resolve the physics of that. I’ve heard some suggest that it is a simple timing mechanism, but that seems to breakdown in my mind when different volumes of rice are possible. Well as it turns out, the mechanics are fairly simple (though they can be “fuzzy“). The heating element also includes a temperature sensor. When the sensor reaches a certain temperature, the rice is done! (follow the links for the explanation).

Who knew something so great could be so simple?

(hat tip to cigamerisedi for leading me down this path)

Mashier: Would you like something to drink with that?
Diego: Yes, I’d like a regular drink.
Mashier: Would you like anything else?
Diego: Yeah, actually can I get one of each kind of cookie?
Diego: [To Bollins] 3 for a dollar man.
Bollins: Ooh can I have one of those.
Diego: Yeah, man, actually you can have the chocolate chip and the macadamia nut if you want, I really only like the oatmeal raisin.
Mashier: Why don’t you just get three oatmeal raisin then?
Diego: I like variety. Besides, if I get all three oatmeal raisin then I’d eat them all. I mean I like the others, I just prefer the oatmeal raisin so I guard that one with my life. The other two are expendable.
Mashier: [likely in her head, though she hides it well] Weirdo.