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wook77Ok, this one is a little more light-hearted. Topic? Philly Cheesesteaks.
Those of you who know me know that I used to live in Pennsylvania, Harrisburg to be exact. I love Philly Cheesesteaks. I could eat them everyday and still be happy. I love the meat, the bun, the sweet peppers, the juice, the cheese and the sauce. I love having cheese whiz dripping into my lap as I happily munch on this epicurus delight. I love the mingling of the tomato and the cheese and the meat.
I now live in Tucson. I went to something called "Philly's Finest". It's supposedly a cheesesteak place. (you now know where this is going...) I ordered the regular cheesesteak. I waited for the kid behind the counter to ask me if I wanted sauce. No question came so I asked for sauce. The kid gives me this blank stare that clearly conveys that I'm no longer speaking English. So I repeat my request. The kid stutters out, "you mean barbecue sauce?". Hmmm, let me think about that....NO!!!!!!!!!!!!!! So I explain what sauce is and the kid goes, nope we don't have that. I asked for regular marinara then and he says they don't have it. So, I resign myself to using ketchup as a sad facsimile of sauce.
I get my cheesesteak and I stare in horror. There upon my sandwich was not my beloved whiz. There instead was SWISS CHEESE!!!!!! Ok, seriously, if they were going to put swiss on my steak, you'd think they'd ask or something. I march up to the counter and ask why I have swiss on the sandwich. New person behind the counter says, that's standard for a cheesesteak. Really? What world are you living in???? So, I ask, so you're from Philly then? He says nope, never been there but I own this place so I know what I'm talking about. Ugh, so I ask for whiz instead. He gives me a blank stare.
I go back to my table and douse the steak in ketchup and then bite in. Meat was alright, juice was good. Bun was just right. Then, the taste hits my mouth. There, hidden in the flavors was a spiciness. Hmmm, cheesesteaks shouldn't be spicy, right? I look at my sandwich and more horror ensues. There, nestled in the middle of my sweet peppers were JALAPENOS!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Come on now people, jalapenos standard on a cheesesteak?
Back up to the counter I go and demand a new sandwich. The dude refuses. I look at him and then proceed to rant about the fact that I hate jalapenos so they needed to go. I hate swiss and it needed to go. I was not happy and I was willing to make a scene. Finally, I watch the dude make me a new sandwich and he sarcastically hands it over to me with a comment of "is this up to your standards, your highness?" I snort at him and eat my poor excuse for a cheesesteak.
Oh for a real cheesesteak :(
Those of you who know me know that I used to live in Pennsylvania, Harrisburg to be exact. I love Philly Cheesesteaks. I could eat them everyday and still be happy. I love the meat, the bun, the sweet peppers, the juice, the cheese and the sauce. I love having cheese whiz dripping into my lap as I happily munch on this epicurus delight. I love the mingling of the tomato and the cheese and the meat.
I now live in Tucson. I went to something called "Philly's Finest". It's supposedly a cheesesteak place. (you now know where this is going...) I ordered the regular cheesesteak. I waited for the kid behind the counter to ask me if I wanted sauce. No question came so I asked for sauce. The kid gives me this blank stare that clearly conveys that I'm no longer speaking English. So I repeat my request. The kid stutters out, "you mean barbecue sauce?". Hmmm, let me think about that....NO!!!!!!!!!!!!!! So I explain what sauce is and the kid goes, nope we don't have that. I asked for regular marinara then and he says they don't have it. So, I resign myself to using ketchup as a sad facsimile of sauce.
I get my cheesesteak and I stare in horror. There upon my sandwich was not my beloved whiz. There instead was SWISS CHEESE!!!!!! Ok, seriously, if they were going to put swiss on my steak, you'd think they'd ask or something. I march up to the counter and ask why I have swiss on the sandwich. New person behind the counter says, that's standard for a cheesesteak. Really? What world are you living in???? So, I ask, so you're from Philly then? He says nope, never been there but I own this place so I know what I'm talking about. Ugh, so I ask for whiz instead. He gives me a blank stare.
I go back to my table and douse the steak in ketchup and then bite in. Meat was alright, juice was good. Bun was just right. Then, the taste hits my mouth. There, hidden in the flavors was a spiciness. Hmmm, cheesesteaks shouldn't be spicy, right? I look at my sandwich and more horror ensues. There, nestled in the middle of my sweet peppers were JALAPENOS!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Come on now people, jalapenos standard on a cheesesteak?
Back up to the counter I go and demand a new sandwich. The dude refuses. I look at him and then proceed to rant about the fact that I hate jalapenos so they needed to go. I hate swiss and it needed to go. I was not happy and I was willing to make a scene. Finally, I watch the dude make me a new sandwich and he sarcastically hands it over to me with a comment of "is this up to your standards, your highness?" I snort at him and eat my poor excuse for a cheesesteak.
Oh for a real cheesesteak :(
