I love dives. Love them. Hole in the wall, weird decorations, can’t get in there fast enough. The latest:

In case you can’t tell, I am trying for this new sort of New York Times photojournalism feel to the photos. Not sure if I can declare success in that one yet, but I am trying something new. Another photo:

Photo I really like:

Not that special, I admit, but solid.

Because this is a dive, there has to be weird stuff on the menu:

I refuse to believe that Dick “quadruple bypass means nothing” Cheney is acquainted in any way with these vegetable things.

We’re in Maryland, so we gotta have a menu item invoking this person:

She’s fab, by the way, jowls and all.

The menu itself is insane:

Alas, what sangwich did I eat here? (I know “sandwich” is misspelled.)
Sangwich:

And, in the grand tradition of this blog, a half eaten cross section:

Its a crab cake, because we are in Maryland. And what did I wash this down with?:

For some, drink on a dare, equivalent to those candified bugs I just blogged about, but to me, a reminder of being called “bubula” and eating pastrami in NY.

Sangwich verdict time:
Um, I’m underwhelmed in the words of my hero, Michael Kors. Just not impressive. Dives of the world, listen up. Love the decor. Could you focus a bit on the food though?