I was doing an errand in South San Francisco on Friday, when I saw out of the corner of my eye the legendary Little Lucca Sandwich Shop. I had read about this place for years, but had never been there, so I decided that fate had led me to it and therefore the time had come for me to finally experience their well-known sandwiches. So I got in line. And waited. And waited.
They go pretty fast considering the amount of product that they get out the door during the lunch rush. I studied the menu and watched the people in front of me to see what to do. There was no small talk. There were no friendly exchanges. You stepped up to the person who said "Next" and stated your order. When your sandwich was finished, you stepped down to the cashier to pay.
I made two faux pas during my time at the counter. The first was when I was asked what kind of bread I wanted. "Oh, just the regular roll," I said, casually. I was met with a look that almost morphed into an eye roll. She started to recite, "Sourdough. Whole Wheat. White. Dutch Crunch..." "Dutch Crunch!" I said, a little too cheerfully. I held my tongue while she made the sandwich, until I realized that I didn't want a lot of mustard. "Mustard only on one side, please" I interrupted. I got a look, but she did what I asked. "Both sauces?" she asked, now very aware that I had no idea what I was doing. "Yes, yes!" I said, in a voice that was more high pitched than I would have liked. I watched as she slathered their homemade hot sauce, then the famous garlic sauce, on the bread. I am sure I fogged up the protective glass with my heavy breathing. I moved to the cashier on cue, and payed my $5.95, dropping a dollar in the tip jar to try to make up for my foolishness.
When I got home, I unwrapped my sandwich as if it were fine china wrapped in bubble paper. A waft of garlic hit me...mmm. I had ordered the Little Lucca Ultimate Sub - turkey, ham, bacon, cheese, lettuce, pickles, mayo, hot sauce, garlic sauce. It was delicious. It was garlicy. It was so full of meat that I could barely get my mouth around it. Would it have been a great sandwich without that sauce? Probably not. But that combination was addictive, and I started dreaming of the next time that I would find myself in the neighborhood.
