There is one fundamental flaw in Darrow.
Scratch that, there are plenty of things wrong in Darrow and Danny's figured that out in less than a week, but there's only one that is currently at the centre of his most recent tirade.
"They're supposed to put the sauce on the bun first, Mindy, first, then add the meatballs. Then more sauce. Then a sprinkle of provolone cheese, not a pinch, not a scattering, a sprinkle. Then back under the heat for another sixty seconds. I mean, how hard is that?"
Incredibly so, if the last-but-one sandwich shop is anything to go by. The 'sandwich technician' - don't even get him started - had burst into floods of tears the fourth or fifth time Danny had been kind enough to offer some words of constructive criticism regarding her sauce-slathering skills. If you could even call it sauce. Both he and Mindy had been escorted (slash manhandled) off the premises when Danny had started complaining rather vocally about how dry his balls were.
"I feel like a jackass for paying ten bucks for that sandwich. But this? This one looks like the real deal," he says with a passion, unwrapping another meatball sub as they leave the latest shop, this time of their own accord. It had taken fifteen minutes from ordering to receiving but Danny doesn't mind waiting for the genuine article.
He's barely out on the sidewalk when he practically stuffs half the sub in his mouth. "This could be it, Min." The words are muffled from the food rolling around. It's only taken six stops to get here. "This could--nope."
Half-chewed sandwich is propelled into his hand and he moves immediately to the nearest trash can, relieving Mindy of her sub on the way.
Yelp has nothing on Danny.