Sandwich Monday: The Hot Brown

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Often when people tell you to eat the local specialty, you go in and it's just you and a bunch of other tourists ordering it. Not so with Kentucky's "Hot Brown." Every table at Ramsey's in Lexington had at least one on it. One table had five, and that table later collapsed, injuring several diners.

A Hot Brown is an open-faced turkey sandwich, piled high with tomato, Mornay sauce, a cheese crust and a couple strips of bacon.

Mike: This is an open-faced sandwich that just barfed.

Ian: Guys, I think I just ate some plate.

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Peter: There was a tomato in there? You're kidding me.

Ian: I assumed the tomato had wandered in accidentally.

Mike: It's like in a nature documentary when a young gazelle gets separated from the herd and the melted cheese and gravy surrounds it.

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Eva: It's weird that the most delicious sandwiches are the ones you can't even tell are sandwiches.

Ian: This is great for people who can't decide between soup and sandwich.

Mike: This is the cosmic soup from which someday, a million years hence, the first sandwich will emerge.

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Peter: Don't spill any. I just got some on my suit jacket and my suit died of a heart attack.

Eva: If you're a wrestler and need to make weight, this is a good way to start. You can eat it, or just staple it to your spandex.

Robert: I actually wrestled under the name "Hot Brown" for several years.

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Robert: On the old pirate maps the bacon "X" meant "Here be diabetes."

Mike: Exactly. Dig here for a heart attack.

Ian: The crucifix of bacon is the least Jewish thing I have ever seen.

[The verdict: a sandwich that demands a knife and fork, and possibly a straw. Probably worth trying once, but its flavor did not live up to its spectacle.]