Pigs hold a special place in this meat-eating moral dilemma though. Cows are mind-numbingly stupid. When my Mom was a kid, she had a lovely milk cow named Rose. One day Rose found a hole in her fence and decided to go on the lam. What did Rose do with her new-found freedom? Immediately ran off the cliff on long beach road. So let's all agree that cow culture is not going to discover the world to be round anytime soon.

Chickens as well, are a testament to humanity's ability to make dinosaurs our meat slaves. I've raised meat hens, and I'm positive their beady little bird eyes contain no soul. They peck at me when I'm trying to feed them. They are stupid and taste great with honey mustard. Absolutely no second guessing going on there.

Stare into the vacant eyes of my new pet chicken, named "Dinner."

Pigs, however, are different. They are smarter than cows, and not nearly as soulless as chickens. I've heard you can train them like dogs and keep them as pets. All they seem to want is to eat and be comfortable, which is not entirely unlike ourselves. Maybe that's why we have to constantly portray them as enjoying the process of being cooked and eaten.

The more you think about this, the worse it gets. That filthy cannibal.

So, on one side I have eating a pretty smart, sentient animal, propping up a dangerous and polluting industry, and doing something I accept is morally wrong on multiple levels. So what's on the other side? Well, pig is delicious of course. What can I say? I've accepted that I'm a horrible person. Have you?

In short:

• I eat cows because they're dumber than most vegetables.
• I eat chickens because it's clearly us or them. They are evil, bone-mouthed demons.
• I eat pigs because they're delicious and I'm awful.

The carnivorous humans' "Divide and Conquer" strategy seems to be working quite swimmingly.

Was I supposed to be reviewing a sandwich? I'm sorry. I totally forgot about that. Here's the menu in case you forgot.

5 down, 4 to go.

We did something different this week and both went with the "Gettin Piggy with It" since we were afraid the "Farm Fresh Fritatta" was entirely too healthy, our bodies wouldn't know what to do with it, and immediately reject it as poison. Also, I had no idea what "Lebanese style pork" was, and I find new styles of mystery pork seductive. I actually didn't know what half the ingredients of this sandwich were, but as a guy who spent a year in China eating street food, I'm no stranger to putting uncertainty into my mouth... Um, don't read too much into that last sentence.

I will later learn that the tin foil was absolutely integral to the structural integrity of this time-bomb of an engineered sandwich.

The first thing you'll notice about this sandwich is that it is a wrap. Last week I became a bit indignant regarding the loose bounds of the sandwich definition, but as long as a wrap doesn't stray too far into burrito territory, I'll allow it. Flat bread came before our modern-day sandwich bread, so in many ways this is a sort of proto-sandwich. Respect your ancestors!

The "Gettin Piggy with It" turned out to be more of an experience than a meal. Due warning: If you're not trained in advanced sandwich techniques and strategies, this may not be the sandwich for you. I'm a certified master of sandwich eating, and even my hand looked like a victim of The Great Pepto Bismal Wars of 2012 by the end of "Gettin Piggy with It." This sandwich is begging to fall apart at the seams, and the only thing stopping it is your edible ingenuity and luck. This is sandwiching on hard mode. Go pro, or go home.

As it turns out, there are professional sandwich eaters, and none of them have Nike contracts.

The second thing you'll notice is that the red cabbage is a deep purple, and the tahini sauce is a faintly off-white, so when they mix together and explode out of your pita, it appears as a delightfully bubble-gum pink streaking across your plate and pants. By the end of my lunch, my plate looked like the crime scene from Kirby's murder. There was a lot of sauce on this sandwich, which I'm normally ok with, since the only reason you pull pork is to increase its surface area to allow for larger sauce-to-meat ratio. You should see me at Embers. I put so much sauce on my pulled pork it practically becomes a soup. In this instance though, the sauce was all on top of the meat, separated by various toppings, which I'm pretty sure had an impact on the structural issues of this sandwich.

The taste was excellent though, and "Gettin Piggy with It" did have a familiar arrangement of ingredients with interesting new twists, which is always plus in my book. Also, it was one of the best pieces of pita I've had in my life. But I have to deduct points since Stephen was forced to open up his wrap and eat it as some sort of pita based open-faced sandwich, with a knife and fork due to his less-than-stellar sandwich proficiency. 

As of now, the "Show your Pride Panini" still remains in the lead, but if you want to try something new, interesting, and test your sandwich engineering know-how, I challenge you to test your sandwich prowess with the "Gettin Piggy with It."