The only problem with Daglio's, really, is that when you're the first people there they're way too speedy and efficient to squeeze a satisfying romantic lunch out of the experience. Parking to door to back to the truck, stuffed, consumed exactly 30 minutes. Not enough time to have, well, quality time with the girlfriend. When one lunch date a week is the dedicated couple time, let's just say it's good that the sandwich was sublime. You think you know what to expect each time you go in, having been there seemingly a million times before, but then the steak is placed before you, you get a snootful of that heavenly aroma, and then the first bite... so hot, so delicious, a wonderous jumble of textures and flavors in your mouth... and as you put away the last bite you still think to yourself, damn, how can this still be this amazingly good? And you smell it on your fingers for hours afterwards. The benchmarks of a good sandwich apparently match the benchmarks of a good something else.