*From time to time, we share the writing of our friends and co-workers on this site. Today’s guest post comes from the blog of Zingerman’s Deli staffer Maddie LaKind. 

I owe much of my college career to a sandwich. Ok, maybe that’s an overstatement, but it definitely played a big part. Let me explain. Ever since my toddler years, I have been bred to attend the University of Michigan. I wore the merch, visited campus, memorized the cheers, heard stories of the good ole’ college days from my parents and relatives, and housed a collection of maize and blue clothing that puts my current student collection to shame. Becoming a wolverine seemed like my young-adult destiny, until it came time for the college application process.

Knowing that Michigan held the title of my top school, I only applied to three others: two “safety” schools and the University of Wisconsin Madison, which, despite my extreme infatuation with Ann Arbor, almost dissuaded me from coming here. Having visited Madison at the peak of fall, I fell head over heels for the school. Who wouldn’t love a lakeside campus, stunning foliage, top of the line facilities, and a thriving capital city to boot?

As much as it wowed me, it lacked a certain crucial element that couldn’t be found anywhere but Ann Arbor. No, it wasn’t the eclectic music scene, the renowned Ann Arbor Film Festival, chipatis, or the unparalleled Big Ten football culture; it was Zingerman’s Delicatessen, or, more specifically, the #73 sandwich, Tarb’s Tenacious Tenure. On the day before Thanksgiving 2008, I sent in my acceptance e-mail to the University of Michigan. Deal done.

Now you may be thinking that this rationale is completely ridiculous given the importance of one’s college decision. I mean how could somebody possibly determine the fate of their college career because of a sandwich? For me it was simple; I wanted to be in the same community as Zingerman’s, hang out and study there, explore their menu, and, maybe someday, even work there.

As a wide-eyed kid whose world revolved around Food Network and personal endeavors in the kitchen, visiting Zingerman’s for the first time felt like I had reached foodie Mecca. I couldn’t get enough of it and made a point to my parents that upon any visit to or passing through Michigan, Zingerman’s be made a priority stop.  It was during these seminal years of early Ann Arbor exposure that I first experienced the sandwich bliss of the #73, which quickly became not only my sandwich of choice, but also a contender for one of my favorite dishes of all time.

The sandwich is simple enough, but the combination of ingredients, textures, and tastes always appealed to me in a very big way. Starting with two hefty slices of Farm Bread (which I liken to a more mild sourdough with a thicker, heartier crust), the sandwich combines turkey, sliced tomatoes, avocado spread (simply comprised of mashed avocado and lime juice), and healthy schmear of housemade Russian dressing. The sandwich is then briefly pressed on the grill until reaching that characteristic Zingerman’s Deli golden glow and, after being paired with a fresh cucumber pickle (aka a “new” pickle), is ready to eat.

For nearly ten years before I came to Michigan as a student and eventually began working at the deli, I couldn’t shake this sandwich from my mind: the unparalleled crunch of double baked bread, heaping layers of savory turkey, and the fresh, summery essence of fresh tomatoes, all rounded out by citrus and tang from the Russian and avocado spread. Can you tell I have a bit of a love affair going on with this sandwich?

Having eaten a good share of Zingerman’s sandwiches over the course of my employment (which began the beginning of my sophomore year), I can easily name ten to twenty others that taste-wise are just as excellent. However, none of them carries the personal nostalgia factor quite like the Tarb’s. Which is why, to this day, it is still my go-to recommendation for new guests and old friends a like. For me, this sandwich represents so much more than just a lunchtime fixin’. It’s a symbol of a place that values and adores food A place that creates memories, has fun, and helped define my college experience. It taught me the value of hard work, provided me with friends and loving co-workers and it makes me happier than any other place on earth.

So no, it wasn’t actually a sandwich that dictated everything, but it definitely helped push me in the right direction and kept me smiling and satiated every step of the way.

Maddie will close the book on her University of Michigan studies in a couple of weeks, but we look forward to seeing more of her writing here.

*From time to time, we share the writing of our friends and co-workers on this site. Today’s guest post comes from the blog of Zingerman’s Deli staffer Maddie LaKind. Maddie’s blog is called WCcolumns.

This month marks my 2 ½ year anniversary as an employee at Zingerman’s Delicatessen. Two years filled with so many noteworthy sandwiches and far too many samples to count. As a saleswoman and general chatterbox regarding good food, people always ask me for my sandwich of choice (out of the 71 options on the menu), preferred pastry, or must-try side from the salad case. Over the course of my employment, my favorites have pretty much remained consistent. However, something happened this past summer that shook up my deli world—for good.

It was weekday-closing shift like any other. Sporadic waves of guests every twenty minutes or so, but on the whole, very relaxed. Upon perusing the menu for my employee meal for the day, I stumbled upon the traditional Jewish section of the menu, one I don’t visit all too frequently. Don’t get me wrong: matzo ball soup, kugel, and chopped liver all hold a special place in my heart, but they aren’t the most energizing fuel for the rest of a shift. But then, I saw it. An item so infrequently ordered and tragically forgotten about that I almost glazed right over it. That item was a cheese blintz.

For those of you whom have yet to experience the transcendental powers of a good blintz, let me provide a brief snapshot: a thin egg crepe is delicately wrapped around a fluffy, honey-scented cream cheese filling, pan fried in butter until golden brown, and served with a side of both homemade strawberry preserves and sour cream. Just to reiterate, that was crepe, cream cheese, butter, preserves, and sour cream. Together—in one dish. Now, if that doesn’t sound like the mother lode combination, I don’t know what does.

Despite my tendency for wolfing down food without any type of legitimate savoring, I used my re-acquaintance with the blintz to test out a new, more leisurely eating pace centered on tasting every component of the dish. After prepping my fork with a nice heap of jam, a light dollop of sour cream, and a knob of blintz, I took my first bite and was immediately elevated into a whole new realm of what any great, cheesy, buttery dish should be. Velvety, slightly sweetened cheese filling effortlessly melding with tart jam and slightly tangy sour cream, all united by a blanket of egg crepe. Rich. Creamy. Fatty (in the best way). And almost too delicious.

I have not eaten a whole lot of blintzes in my life, but even as a new fan, I think I can rank Zingerman’s version as an exemplary product on a number of accounts. First of all, the ingredients used are all selected on the basis of excellent quality and intense flavor. This means creating a filling with all natural cream cheese—no Philadelphia here folks—rich and floral chestnut honey, and house made crepes. Using cheese produced at the Zingerman’s Creamery on the south side of Ann Arbor, locally made preserves, and Guernsey Dairy (also local) sour cream, this dish is a proud celebration of local products and natural food practices, both of which, lets be real, everybody could use an extra dose.

Aside from all of the technical reasons why a Zingerman’s cheese blintz is such a showstopper, the bottom line is that it is just damn good comfort food. Like any great bowl of mac and cheese, order of fried chicken, or piece of birthday cake, the blintz is a dish to indulge in every now and then and, most importantly, without guilt; we are all deserving of those precious moments of food nirvana! So the next time you’re feeling the Zingerman’s itch, give the blintz a try. It never ceases to disappoint.