I've never had a sandwich make me pine for a hangover until I made friends with the pork belly breakfast sandwich ($13) at Vincent. When are they going to invent time machines, already? If I had one, I would go back to the night before I ordered it just to get hammered, so I that I might enjoy this foodie's hair of the dog to its fullest potential.
Eating this bad boy is akin to going twelve rounds with a true heavyweight. Just as you're recovering from the rich jab of the fried egg, the savory pork belly comes over the top with a power punch. You're already reeling, wobbly, when you get the rope-a-dope sweetness of the red onions, followed by the creaminess of the Manchego cheese, right before the ultimate knockout punch of the tomato bacon jam. It is the through-line of the sandwich, a deliciously tangy gift that keeps on giving. If I could make one suggestion, it would be that instead of the dainty fingerling potatoes, it should be paired with a can of PBR and a side of Advil.
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