Why can’t I stop replaying this damn sandwich - a bar snack served at Hearth in Perth’s newly opened Ritz-Carlton – in my head?
Maybe it’s because this mighty trio of top-grade Wagyu, squishy brioche bread and dinky-di condiments single-handedly makes up for every sinewy, soggy-toast pub steak sandwich that’s ever broken my heart (and leaked juice down my sleeves).
Maybe it’s because as much as this sanga doffs its akubra to Aussie food traditions, it also touches on Japanese sando culture too. And I really love Japan and Japanese food.
Maybe it’s because my embarrassingly tiny Japanese vocabulary was big enough to include futari (which means “two people” in nihongo, and nods to Two Peoples Bay near Albany where the cows are pastured), and being able to translate foreign words without my smartphone helps justify all that time spent playing with Google Translate.
Maybe it’s because I’ve got time to call an Uber and head into the city for one of these for lunch? No, no. There are containers of brown rice and leftovers in the fridge labelled with my name and the date (kitchen tape at home might sound like the epitome of restaurant fetishism, but I’m really committed to cutting down on food waste this year).
Maybe it’s because I really, really like sandwiches and other things you can eat with your fingers. Cutlery. Pah.
Maybe it’s because I’m amazed at the number of likes this thing racks up on Instagram. The internet sure likes a good sandwich, doesn’t it? Could this be the west coast equivalent of A1’s muffuletta?
Maybe it’s because this sandwich costs almost $40 – that’s about as much as six Whoppers or Big Macs – making it the most expensive sanga I’ve put in my mouth.
Maybe it’s because 2020 is the year I’m seriously embracing the whole eat-less-meat-but-make-the-meat-you-do-eat-better-quality thing, and this eight-bite snack fits that bill. It’s beefy enough, incidentally, that you could happily split one between two people. Or not. Suit yourself, moneybags.
Or maybe this sandwich is just out-and-out delicious and an accessible, easygoing example of Hearth’s woodfired cooking style. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got some beef-and-bread daydreaming to do.