Awwwww, here go! I don't know if you jack holes have heard all the rumors floating around regarding me and sandwiches, but let me go ahead and set the record straight for you all: THEY ARE THE SLAM TO MY JAM. I swearz, I eat a god damn sandwich at least once a day, and ever since my parents successfully prayed the gay gene(vegetarianism) out of me, I sometimes even eat, I dunno, like, two a day. Like a fucking lunatic.
So one day, my buddy Justin says to me, "Duuude. Next time you're in Philly, I'm gonna take you to a place that makes the BEST fucking sandwich you will ever eat. Like, seriously -- ball draining good.".
"Ball draining!?" I exclaimed emphatically. "Well that just doesn't even sound physically possible, Justin. You aren't confusing sandwiches with hookers again, are you? Cuz last time you told me I was gonna have a ball draining 'Niçoise salad', it cost me seventy-five dollars and a questionable blemish on my d-piece."
"Naw, yo, I'm for ril-doze. Straight up sandwich style."
So it was off to the Italian Market in South Philly, to a charming little butt-jam factory called Paesano's:
So this is a fairly famous joint known for miraculously offering super gourmet style shit for poor person prices. Seriously, it's hard to find menus that say shit such as "broccoli rabe" and "roasted fennel" with prices under $10. That ass clown Bobby Flay even had his stupid ass Throw Down show here!
So according to the website, the owner was "tired of having to add 'gusto' to other sandwich shop offerings", which kind of but not really explains why there's wild shit such as crispy fried lasagna and sopressata wrapped hot dog sandwiches. The website should really say the owner was "tired of having to add heart murmers to his hoagies after getting broiled(did I just come up with that, or is that something people already say to get super stoned?)."
So I decided to have the flag-ship sandwich, "The Paesano", which more or less means "red neck" in Italian. So what do these nut jobs put on this slam jam?
House made beef brisket. Horseradish mayo. Roasted tomatoes. Pepperincino. Sharp provolone. Fried egg. ALL OF WHICH ARE AMERICAN DREAMS! ALL OF WHICH ARE AMERICAN DREAMS! ALL OF WHICH! ARE AMERICAN! DREAMS.
Did you know that the brisket is the part of the cow that's above the front shank and under the chuck? Neither did I, until I just wikipedia'd that shit! And why the fuck is the tenderloin, the most expensive cut of meat, so close to the butt hole!?!?
So. The big question: Was it the best sandwich I've ever had? *Whew* well, it was a CLOSE second. And I'm talking pretty damn close. The brisket was juicy and delicious, the bread was the perfect amount of crunchy, and all of the toppings were completely spot on. It's definitely the kind of sandwich you eat once, and find yourself having special cravings for for the rest of your life. But I'm sorry, the first place position is still firmly held by the "bewpie" sandwich, which is a sandwich of my face buried in between a pair of awesome bewpies. Valiant effort, Paesano's.
I leave you know with an exchange that took place in the Hand van a couple of hours after our experience, that should firmly convince you of the caliber of excellence to which these sandwiches hold:
Me: "Ohhhh myyaaaan, I want to poooop so byaaaad, but I cyaaaant. WHY CYANT I POOOP!?!?"
B-Rock: "I knyooowww *whimper*. It's like the syaandwich was so gyoood that you're styomach doesn't want to turn into poop because it was soooo gyoood and it wants to keep it in sandwich form foreeevoorrrr."
Paesano's is located at 1017 S 9th Street at the Italian Market in South Philadelphia, a few blocks and about 4 or 5 years from where I got in a huge fight with the girl I was dating at the time, and ended up having drunk make up sex on a shitty south philly couch, and falling asleep in a bewpie sandwich. Bewpies.