The muffuletta incident

Well, I knew that it was bound to happen eventually, but I am still ashamed of myself. Yesterday I was sitting at home, chatting with my husband as he flipped through news stories, and I saw something that made me instantly say, “I have to have that before surgery!” That something was a local deli-made muffuletta. Ah, the memories.

Let me explain, when I was young, a teenager, my dad loved this little local-owned Italian restaurant called Dominic’s. Hell, everyone in my home town loved that place. Dominic was a loud, boisterous Italian guy who had celebrity and political buddies. He ruled his kitchen with an iron fist. It wasn't uncommon to see Dominic slap one of cooks on the back of the head if he was bringing out orders too slowly. He typically personally greeted everyone who stepped into his restaurant with a, “Hey, Cuz!” that everyone loved. There was a kind of “wink, wink – nudge, nudge” acknowledgement that he had mob ties. All of that aside, his food was absolutely amazing.

We rarely dined-in anywhere, but my dad would frequent Dominic’s for muffuletta take-out. He would get one for himself, one for my mom, and one for me and my friends to share. Dad always ate his whole muffuletta in one sitting, which is quite a feat if you know what a muffuletta is. It is a sandwich that has an entire pound of meat and cheese on it. The bread is larger than a human head. The typical styrofoam takeout box? Yeah, a muffuletta fills it completely.

1/4 of this thing is 750 calories. This is a pic
of one from Central Grocery in N.O.

So, why did I want one of these monsters so badly? And why now? Well, having transplanted here to sunny Florida from Louisiana, this time of year always makes me a little nostalgic. Mardi Gras parades, Fat Tuesday, the celebrations, the liquor, the food – all fond memories. Something that I didn’t know growing up is that muffulettas are very Louisiana, specifically New Orleans. I had always assumed that they were an Italian thing, which they are, but they originated in New Orleans at Central Grocery. They were an invention of convenience for Italian immigrant workers who came in for lunch and juggled separate servings of olives, cheese, salami meats, and bread.

I actually had no idea of the sandwich’s origin before yesterday when my husband showed me the news article he was reading about where to find Fat Tuesday worthy food here in our town. After Dominic’s shut its doors in the early 2000’s, I could never find another good muffuletta. There were a couple of places that tried, but they were what the P-zone was to a calzone – crappy knock-offs.  It was the same story everywhere else in the country my husband and I have traveled to. And here – I looked over the menus of the Italian restaurants here hoping to find one when we moved here to no avail. I had, in fact, given up. And suddenly here was this news article talking about a local deli – Jay’s Marketplace – that makes them fresh to order. His bread is even brought in from New Orleans! He makes his own olive “salad”. I thought of all the carbs in the bread, the fatty meats, and (my favorite) all of the olives; then I thought about how post-op I would never, ever be able to enjoy one of these again. Ever.  And so I blurted it out, “I have to have that before surgery! Today. Now!” My husband laughed, but he indulged me.

It’s common for people who are having weight loss surgery to have what is called, “a food funeral” for their favorite fatty foods. It’s a way to say goodbye and to then be able to be done with it. Honestly, this had some emotional significance for me. I have a lot of good memories tied up with these sandwiches. A boy who was very much like my brother and I used to split these. We would each gorge ourselves on half of the sandwich, then groan and take a nap together. He loved them so much. I miss him every day. Plus my dad – I rarely remember him being as happy as he was with a muffuletta, as sad as that is.

I decided to log this into myfitnesspal because I do want to keep myself accountable for both the good and bad. Jay’s website helpfully had all of the ingredients listed and in what quantity, so it was just a case of entering it all in and seeing how many calories it is. 3,000. It was 3,000 delicious, artery-clogging calories. I didn’t eat it all yesterday, and I am having sooooo much guilt for eating any of it at all. However, I got to say goodbye. Today I am back on track. Nobody’s perfect, and I think that it is important to acknowledge my mistakes. This is that acknowledgement.  I think it is appropriate to send it off N.O. style, don’t you?

(Okay, so not a funeral procession - but still!) ;)