Con Brio!

Oh, the humanity! For the sake of more butter and eggs mixed in with the flour? Heretics, lunatics, fanatics, all!

Must Maspero’s in The Quarter bend to the will of the fast food zeitgeist—their muffalettas served on brioche buns? Hell, no!

Should Cortaditos in Charleston succumb to the tidal wave of brioche madness—Cuban sandwiches offered on brioche buns? A thousand times, never!

Can you imagine Katz’s Deli in NYC serving a pastrami on, gulp, a brioche bun? Sure, if you have some severely twisted, dark dark dark synapse sparking deep deep deep in that badly damaged brain of yours.

Here’s a tip: Sawdust on a brioche bun is still sawdust. Duh.

Johnny’s Po-Boys on Saint Louis Street switching over to brioche buns for their roast beef or oyster po-boys? The horror! The horror!

Greenville’s Passerelle serving croquet monsieur on a brioche bun? Get out! No, seriously, get out of here! And flee far far away!

Or open a can of tuna, fold in a dollop of mayo, and then get out your damn brioche buns.

Or fry up some Spam, smear on some ketchup—sure, sure, on a brioche bun.

Here’s another clue: Corporate America is enamored of the brioche bun.

I’m sure I speak for all with any ounce of integrity still sandwiched in their respective parietal lobes when I cry, “Give me liberty and rustic ciabatta!”