Somewhere a plant grew, and its seed head, culled, was ground. The powdered grain then bathed, allaying starch and forming to a gloopy mass then dried, then ground again. That resulting dusty powder then was formed again into a gloopy mass with herbs and salts and fats, then simmered in a broth, then cooled and sliced. Then breaded, fried and stacked on marbled rye with mayo and hot mustard. A truly lovely sandwich, but such entitled food decisions folded there, within.