Now Is the Winter of Our Discontent Made Glorious Summer

I walked into Savage Pizza yesterday, ready to once again face the crushing disappointment of the discontinued submarine sandwich that I erstwhile held so very dear. It was with a heavy heart, dear reader, that I ordered the "Hot Portobello Sub," which had assumed, profanely, the place on the "specials" menu where my beloved marinated chicken used to be. Reader, I ate that sub. And by gosh if it wasn't the best sub I have ever eaten. I had another one today. In a way I feel as if I am a turncoat. In another way, who cares? The only problem is the way I quake in constant terror, wondering when they will strike my new "fave" off the menu. Sweet torture!