Gaming, Science Fiction, Culture, and Such
In the spirit of this most American of holidays, I give thanks for a delivery of TastyPies—including the elusive Seasonal Pumpkin TastyPie—fresh from a Center City Philly Wawa:
TastyPies are, of course, best at the peak of freshness, so no need to examine the nutritional contents panel, especially on Thanksgiving. If you have TastyPies at home, just enjoy.
Tony Luke’s recent unveiling of its frozen Roast Pork Sandwich puts Movement Point‘s longstanding advocacy for Philadelphia Roast Pork Sandwich Awareness to the test.
Any effort to get Roast Pork Sandwiches into more homes and hungry hands must be celebrated, because these sandwiches, with their bewitching combination of tender roast pork, sharp provolone, and slightly bitter greens, have flown under the nation’s culinary radar for far too long. But can Tony Luke’s really pull off a good, frozen Roast Pork Sandwich?
Speaking in the Philadelphia Inquirer, the near-eponymous Tony Lucidonio, Jr., says he can:
“I can’t get into too much detail because we have a Patent pending,” Lucidonio said of the new frozen-sandwich preparation process. “It is the way the meat is made that allows the meat to go from a raw steak into a microwave or a boiler bag and come out as if it were grilled.”
Though he is speaking there about his frozen cheesesteaks, one assumes the process is somewhat similar for the Roast Pork Sandwiches. The proof will be in the pork, as they say. I think…
(Image from The Philadelphia Inquirer)
A new deli opened recently on the resurgent H Street corridor in Northeast Washington, DC, promising a taste of Philadelphia. No, not cheesesteaks…
Taylor Gourmet Deli, run by two Philly ex-pats, offers hoagies and chicken cutlet sandwiches, all on bread from Sarcone’s Bakery in Philadelphia.
No roast pork sandwiches, alas, but they do a fine job indeed with the hoagies, as the meticulously crafted 9th Street Italian pictured above demonstrates. That’s a properly built hoagie—you get everything in every bite.
The ingredients are top notch and in good proportion, with no one ingredient overwhelming another. A sausage sandwich (the Church Street) had hand-made sausage and well-seasoned red peppers, just a little crisp, allowing the textures of the sausage and bread and pepper to stand out, each in their own moment.
In the 9th Street Italian, the oil and vinegar, that often overlooked component of a real hoagie, fulfilled its role nicely, greasing the butcher paper and giving good mouth-feel but not soaking the sub, even after sitting for a bit, because of the sandwich’s construction. These things do matter, and you’re getting them at a price comparable to a lowly “sub” from one of the far-from-distinguished national chains.
The Washington Post write-up of Taylor Gourmet Deli notes that the lines there can be long, but I had the hoagies delivered for a modest surcharge. The person who took the order over the phone was gruff in a pleasant, Philadelphia manner and the delivery driver was good about keeping me apprised of where my hoagies were.
Hopefully they’ll get their website upgraded from the current placeholder soon.
A fine culinary drive up 95 without, you know, driving anywhere.
It might not be quite like Proust and his madeleines, but the memory of a special restaurant can easily transport one back to childhood. One such place for me is an airplane—not airplane food, but food in an airplane, in this case one stuck on pillars near a small airfield between Boulder and Denver, Colorado.
Formerly N5601 (and OD-AFJ), a well-travelled Convair CV-990-30A-5 Coronado, this passenger plane became, as well as I can remember, B.J. Strawberries at the Convair, a restaurant more renowned for being in an airplane than for its cuisine, but as a ten year old, the food was certainly secondary to the sight of a plane perched on stilts. Diners were given boarding passes to their seats, and I think the wait staff dressed in airline pilot and stewardess uniforms for that extra bit of authenticity. Lost to time is whether or not the menu items were airplane-themed.
(Check out Steve Nelson’s comments for updated information on this restaurant, including menu items, waitstaff uniforms, and the source of the restaurant’s name. Also in the comments is a link to a site with some history and photos of the Erie Air Park, including a scan of a newspaper article about the Convair’s demolition.)
Food blog Serious Eats presents a delightful illustrated guide to America’s hoagie heritage, featuring a small but respectful mention of the Official Sandwich of Movement Point, the Philadelphia Roast Pork Sandwich, with accompanying photograph by yours truly.
The article attempts to decipher the real differences between subs, hoagies, grinders, and heroes. I don’t think I’ve seen the differences explained as other than regional dialect variations before. Just don’t read the article before lunch or you’ll get hungry.
Serious Eats did a recap of Philadelphia’s best Roast Pork earlier in the year, and their advice for John’s Roast Pork is spot on—do not order the small.
New York Times restaurant critic Frank Bruni made that mistake and missed out on a moment of epicurian wonder. When I visited John’s earlier this year, I couldn’t for the life of me figure out what he had eaten and how it compared to the feast in front of me until I realized he got a small. Don’t get the small. Don’t order anything in a small in Philly.
Movement Point‘s mission to bring the culinary delight that is the Philadelphia Roast Pork Sandwich to the unenlightened adds another of the country’s great newspapers to its list of supporters.
Three months ago, Tim Warren’s encomium on this sandwich made of pork, provolone, and sauteed greens that has labored under the heavy, greasy shadow of the cheesesteak appeared in the Washington Post. Now, we have the New York Times‘ Peter Meehan weighing in, declaring the roast pork sandwich to be among the nation’s most impressive ballpark fare. Meehan’s survey of ballpark food, “Buy Me Some Sushi and Baby Back Ribs,” in the June 8, 2008, Times, took him to Philadelphia’s Citizens Bank Park, where he found the grail:
Ashburn Alley is home to hoagies, Chickie & Pete’s crab fries (French fries dusted with Old Bay seasoning) and two of the city’s respected cheese steak purveyors, Rick’s Steaks and Tony Luke’s. Tony Luke’s had the better cheese steak of the two (though their other locations are notably superior). Even better is Tony Luke’s juicy roasted pork and provolone sandwich, dressed with tender broccoli rabe, as good a meat sandwich as there is in the majors.
Let’s just emphasize that last bit: “as good a meat sandwich as there is in the majors.”
OK, so it’s not a third Michelin star, but in the increasingly rarified (and expensive) world of stadium food, that’s quite a review. I have yet to sample a Tony Luke’s roast pork, but I can think of little better place to get one than at the ballpark while watching the Phils push to another pennant. Time for a road trip . . .
(Image courtesy of wallyg via a Creative Commons Attribution-Non-Commercial-No Derivatives License.)