Here's an idea: Spec's should abandon selling booze (at least at one location) and open an independent shop selling only its sandwiches. Let's call it (you guessed it) "Spec's Sandwiches."
Seriously, how many fantabulous sandwich options does a company have to offer before consumer demand and momentum compels it to open a branch entirely devoted to [insert your favorite filling combination here] between two slices of bread? Just saying.
Katharine Shilcutt named Spec's "Pâté de France" one of her 100 Favorite Dishes in Houston and others have extolled the virtues of the California Dreamin' and Chick Chick sandwiches. Let us now praise another famous sandwich: the Grand Cru.
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Grand cru ("great growth") is a French term use to designate a vineyard known for producing very high quality wine as well as an area of soil (terroir) capable of so doing. The Grand Cru sandwich at Spec's has the potential for producing great moans of delight.
In between two slices of thick-cut French bread (the menu says "roll" but whatever) lies a third pound of juicy roast beef, several thick slabs of brie, and a generous spread of dijon mustard. Each bite is a study in contrast between savory bovine notes, rich cream, and just enough earthy tangyness to make your eyes water a bit.
Oh maybe you're just crying with happiness.
The Grand Cru sandwich is served slightly warm but should you have to travel a ways (or get stuck on the shitshow construction on Bissonnet) before you can sink your canines into this puppy, just put it in the oven at 200 degrees for seven minutes.