“Oh,” she said when I told her where I had had lunch. “Average.”
Yep. That pretty much about sums it up. Average.
Apple Spice is quaintly named, and I think I even detected a note of a cinnamon in the air when I walked in. However, when I left, I realized I didn’t have a lot of wonderful to say about it.
My sandwich? A turkey on wheat with lettuce and tomato. I could have made it myself, but just wasn’t that great. If I wanted to make it myself, I would have.
My soup? A clam chowder that was less chowder and more soup.
My cookie? Chocolate, but no better than any I had ever made.
Verdict? No complaints, but no real accolades, either. An almost forgettable experience. Just average.
