My sammy soul mate.

by Mollie Chen

Nostalgia is a funny thing. Some people think back to their college years and remember the endless cups of coffee or Solo cups of warm beer or perhaps dining hall chickwiches. I'll admit, when I go back to Boston I do get a bit misty-eyed over the stately redbrick buildings and the good old Charles. But it's a sandwich that does me in.

There's a specific type of coffee shop that seems to flourish in college towns. Haphazard, vaguely folksy decor with worn, cushy armchairs and too-small tables, indie rock in the background and scruffy, friendly servers. Darwin's Ltd., just outside Harvard Square, fits the mold perfectly. The first time I dragged my parents there, promising them a transcendent experience, my father took one look at the earnest undergrads highlighting away, and sighed. "Oh, so it's a Friends place," he said. Fair. Darwin's looks as if it's a movie set left over from With Honors. But it also has--and I am not exaggerating--the best sandwiches in the world. I know ex-Bostonians living in every far corner of the globe who would happily trade a perfect banh mi or croque monsieur for a single overstuffed Darwin's creation.