CSI; TESCO FINEST

FESTIVITY

Silver and orange abound. Which is odd, as these aren’t classic festive colours. In the top corner there’s picture of the ingredients you’re going to find in the sandwich, but in small quantities and arranged like how someone on a diet might arrange them on top of a Ryvita. The December 26^th entry from a book by Fern Britten called “Day at a Time”. There’s a wrapping paper quality to the sides of them, with squiggly fireworks and pictures of snowflakes. The font is clumsy and uninspiring. The faded fairylights in the background suggest a Christmas Tree might be back there, but there isn’t, so we must assume this photo was taken in a female student’s bedroom. It’s a decent effort, this box, but it’s an effort all the same. Not even an outline of some holly can save it from its averageness.

5

DEPTH

Uniformly decently thick and mostly gets to both edges of the bread. All the ingredients are clearly visible and it all looks of decent quality. There’s a fair amount of stacked bacon, but I don’t think this sandwich is trying to be deceitful. I feel sure of it, but not inspired by it. This is the sandwich Peter Sissons makes on Boxing Day. After this, 2 chocolate hobnobs and a mug of milk will do me rightly.

8

RATIO

Woah. Instantly, I am concerned. There’s not a lot of bird here, that’s clear from the outset. There’s a lot of pork to contend with here- not only bacon, but also Lincolnshire sausage. It’s a plumber’s breakfast. I look at the ratios on the back of the box- in total there’s as much pig as there is bird, and only slightly less stuffing. This sandwich is strewn with errors. Where even is the suffing? Only well-appointed cranberry gets this any salvation.

4

OVERALL FLAVOUR

Bite. Sausage. Sausage. Bite. Sausage. Decent cranberry moistness. Centre bite, all ingredients slosh around my mouthpiece and my molars rattle them around, my tongue flicking around the cathedral of my chew chamber, desperately seeking poultry. Nothing. Sausage. It’s a sausage fest. It’s a University Rugby tour of a sausage fest and every bit as tasteless. Second sandwich offers no respite. Or rest bite. Sausage. I haul away a delicate strip of gobblebird and it’s decent in isolation. But in this sandwich, the only other flavour I get than sausage is mayonnaise. It tastes like a sandwich after barbecue cold cuts, not after Christmas Dinner. Maybe the y meant to sell this in Australia. Soon after I finish, I begin to cry out of disappointment, and glittering crystals form under my eyes. “WHERE ARE MY TEARS?!” I wail at the empty box. The box tells me “we’ve dried them up FOREVER”. 55% RDA of salt in this sandwich, and boy can I feel it, as I use my tongue to smooth out some edges on my bannisters at home.

10

TOTAL SCORE 27/50

A poor score from a previously strong contender.  Had expected more. And indeed, I got more. More sausage.