I had no mixed feelings about Tea Lounge on 7th Ave.: I danced on its grave (emotionally, anyway). The laptop losers hogged every square inch of usable furniture; the place was always a mess; and the service was, well—one time a disgruntled employee basically chucked my bagel at me because another customer had been unpleasant to deal with.
But wouldn’t you be if you walked in expecting a nice, relaxing cup of India’s finest, and instead were squeezed into a spot on a couch (spring shooting up and scratching the taint), trying to sip your chai latte while wedged between a breast feeder and some 40-something dude--likely her husband--browsing sections of Craigslist you didn’t ever want to know existed? Face it: Tea Lounge was a boil on the ass of South Slope.
So I was excited to see the arrival of Vietnamese sandwich joint Hanco’s. But I must say, while the food tasted ok, the front entry (Get it? The vagina?) of the store has always smelled like a strange mix of pork and poo. All. The. Time. Even at night, when the place is closed, I smell pork poo as I pass by.
I have no idea what’s going on by your backside, but Hanco’s, your main entryway soon could be attracting seagulls.
Say what you will about the Henry’s-Hanco’s dispute (sort of like the East Coast-West Coast hip-hop feud, only with baguettes), which supposedly involves turf warfare and recipe theft; I haven’t tried Henry’s yet. But I have walked by, and the front of the store smells just like it should, not like pork poo.
Who do you think wins the battle of the banh mi?
Only one sandwich in, I vote for the one whose vagina smells cleaner.
Be nice to Eric, and buy his book First Big Crush: The Down and Dirty on Making Great Wine Down Under. You know you wanna.
Erica | 
I just returned from the 6:05pm showing of Paranormal Activity at the UA Court Street Stadium 12 movie theater...and I've never been so scared in my entire life.
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