A tale of 5 sammiches

I maintain that some of the best meals of my life have been tuna sandwiches, eaten within 1 mile of some coast. In fact I can't eat one at all without thinking of the first I ever voluntarily ate: on the Ground Floor of a Megalithic spanish shopping complex in Alicante Spain 8 years ago to the day for all I know, for one euro. I lovingly ate that sandwich at noon almost every day for a month. More recently I had a tuna sandwich somewhere on long island at the house of the 88 year old mother of my Plastic Surgery mentor. Once too in college, I visited my favorite philosophy prof and his wife at home to drink terrible coffee with wonderful tuna sandwiches. Nikki's mom makes a delicious and simple tuna salad that I usually end up eating cold from the fridge around midnight between 2 slices of airy italian bread. And finally I just had simple meal of baby spinach, olive oil, cracked pepper, some goat cheese, and a basic tuna salad crossed with tarragon vinegar and dried currants- scooped up with an almost stale crusty lemon-basil baguette form the bakery around the corner. All this while watching the sky drip shifting colors into the bay.