Lynn Nottage’s mouthwatering, gloriously performed play inhabits an unprepossessing Pennsylvania sandwich shop which Clyde runs on fear. Mean as a buzzsaw, Gbemisola Ikumelo’s buttock-pummelling terror bobs up at the service window without warning – like Jaws but much, much scarier.
The sour joke is that Clyde herself has no interest in food. Hauling in meats of dubious provenance (“You know my policy. If it ain’t brown or grey, it can be fried”), she scorns hope or the possibility of change. Don’t even mention garnish.
