Before I went to Cortina's, I'd never seen anyone clink sandwiches as though they were flutes of champagne. I was waiting for my meal, sitting next to two people who had just received their orders. They both reached into their paper baskets, took the thick Italian cold-cut sandwiches, hoisted them aloft, then clinked them together, touching bread on bread. After raising their toast, they ate and ate, not exchanging a word for a solid five minutes. The world around them seemed to fall away. They were on their own plane of consciousness. It was just them and their sandwiches—and I can't imagine them looking any happier. On a different day, I sat next to another couple. I heard the woman let out a subtle but audible sound of joy when her meatball sub arrived. As she took a bite, I saw her eyes roll to the back of her head. Then she put down the sandwich gently, dabbed a napkin to the corner of her mouth as she chewed and nodded as though she had reached some sort of... More >>>