Eat the evidence

I took a stromboli to cocktails with Ben and Ken at Kathy and Carl's place on Saturday, and it disap- peared somehow. So did my chicken satay, though it wasn't as photogenic by far.

Nobody seemed to be embarrassed to take the last pieces -- usually one of the frustrations of a host who wants to clear trays away, but doesn't want to be wasteful.

It's hard to beat ham, salami, pepperoni, roasted peppers and cheese wrapped up in a toasty crust.

But only in Tennessee: As I was ordering up the salami at a deli, a worker yelled over: "You better warn him. There's wine in it." Pronouced "wahn."

"There's wine in it," the woman filling my order solemnly told me. "That's why I've never had it."