SandWHICH?

I'm now in Boston for a writing conference at a downtown hotel. After finding myself at a 7 to 8:30 p.m. "reception" without any food save cheese and crackers, I set out for a feed before the final session began.

Through possible divine intervention, the adjoining mall had an Au Bon Pain about 50 feet from the hotel entrance. For those not in the know, ABP (as I'm now nicknaming it) is a modest, dependable Boston bakery/cafe chain. Its bread, as the French name suggests, is its key.

The eatery had no line, pressuring my friend Daniel and me into quick decisions. Ever the sucker for guacamole, I went with the Smoked Turkey, Emmental Swiss and Jalepeno Guac on a baguette. Only after ordering did I read the other ingredients: tomatoes and snow peas. Say what?

While we waited for our sandwiches, Daniel said he almost ordered my sandwich, but reconsidered. "They had me until snow peas," he said.

I don't like peas. They're among the few things I won't eat. But, what was that adjective, I wondered. Snow? I like snow, even if I don't see any in North Carolina. I couldn't remember whether 'snow peas' was a dressy name for peas or pea pods, but I prayed for the latter.

Hallelujah! They were pea pods, as this rudimentary cell phone photo reveals. Not only would I get to test my long-held theory that pea pods would be a tasty sandwich pal--especially in place of the celery in egg salad--I was relieved I wouldn't have peas falling everywhere.

In the end, the snow peas were the best part, aside from the guacamole. Now all they need to do is call the green crunchers by their real name--pea pods.