Photo Credit: Pete Holby

For those who don’t know, On Sandwiches is a blog that is all about, duh, sandwiches. Written by Pete Holby, the blog alternates between sandwich recipes and reviews. I’ve actually linked to them here before, but it was as a rebuttal to a less-than-conciliatory post about bacon, written by guest blogger Jon Bois.

This one is far friendlier. In fact, I actually took one of the recipes that Holby posted and made it. To be quite fair, it was a peanut butter sandwich, but this isn’t to flex my technical muscle. Rather, it’s to showcase a flavor combo that’s new to me. It’s the fifth sandwich down in his Peanut Butter Six Ways post from two months ago, which for the clickophobes, is a peanut butter and apple sandwich… with sriracha sauce.

Now, I know what you’re probably thinking. Sriracha sauce is great, but on a peanut butter sandwich? Really? I’m sure you’re having a hard time wondering who’s crazier, Holby for the idea or me for actually trying it. The funny thing about food though is that there really is no right answer (except use of Miracle Whip… the correct answer re: that shit is never to use it). Whatever works works. I’m a fan of both peanut butter and sriracha, and honestly, peanut flavors, much like the rooster sauce, are very much ingrained in savory Thai dishes. Besides, if we stuck to what was traditional and didn’t go outside the box ever, we’d all probably be stuck eating roasted meats and vegetables with no variance every night. I love a good roast like anyone else, but variety is the spice of life.

That says nothing as to how the sandwich was. I made two of them with a Granny Smith apple on honey wheat bread with plans on eating during my long commute from home to Ohio for work. Boy, could I have used a pick-me-up like that on that soul-crushing ride on the PA Turnpike, and that’s what it was. I was astonished at how well the peanut butter and sriracha interplayed, with the tartness of the apple in the background completing the flavor profile. The peanut butter was slightly sweet and danced with the garlicky notes of the rooster sauce. The capsacin provided an almost appropriate finish, but unlike in some applications, where the heat can sometimes be too much, the bread and peanut butter did enough to hold the brazen power of the rooster in check so that it provided a controlled afterburn.

The moral of the story though? Try new things. Who cares if it sounds weird? It might be good. Oh yeah, and the other moral of the story is that once again, sriracha sauce proves that it really should be put on anything and everything.

Beer is my favorite beverage, but coffee runs second place. Here’s java’s entry into the power poll:

10. The Shit You Make at Home: First off, this doesn’t cover Keurig cups. Fuck that noise. I’ve never had a good cup of K-coffee. I’m talking what you make in your coffeemaker or even better,  your French press. This covers a lot of ground, but it more represents the versatility you have in making your own coffee. You can make it weak or strong. You can double brew it. You can spice it up the way you want to. It’s such a rasa tabula that you can’t go wrong with it.

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Featured on Triple D, Man vs. Food and the tweets of Bryce Remsburg, I tried out the iconic upstate New York Q joint.

What I Ordered: Texas brisket, macaroni and cheese and sausage, bean and bacon soup

What I Liked: 

• They had an assortment of pretty snazzy sauces on the table.
• The mac ‘n cheese… AWESOME.
• Brisket and soup were both really tasty as well.

What I Didn’t Like:

• The brisket was a little on the fatty side.

Overall Thoughts: Syracuse, NY holds a special place in my heart. I came here last in ‘04 to watch the Drexel men’s basketball team play at the Carrier Dome. They lost by 20, but it was an experience. The road trip and the game were both awesome experiences, but culinarily, it was kind of a snooze, unless you’re titillated by turnpike rest stop Roy Rogers. I am, but that’s not nearly as great as discovering REAL good food.

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A local Ridley-area favorite gets the Restaurant: Impossible treatment.

What I Ordered: Fried calamari, clam bisque, lasagna
What the Wife Ordered: Same appetizer, Italian wedding soup, pork cannelloni

What I Liked:

• Food was generally fresher tasting (Clam bisque had real clams in it, et al.).
• The bread tasted hot out of the oven.
• The lasagna was one of the best I’ve ever had out.

What I Didn’t Like:

• Calamari rings were too thick and too heavily breaded.
• Traditionally slow service was not improved upon.

Overall Thoughts: Italian Village has been a Ridley Township staple for over 30 years. I was introduced to it one night about four years ago or so when I helped my future father-in-law do some yardwork. He treated me to their Wednesday night special, all-you-can-eat mussels. I was very impressed that night. Since then, Amanda and I had gone back more than a few times, mainly because there was always a coupon in the Clipper Magazine that would net us $10 off our bill. It was a very homespun sort of place, where the food wasn’t anything special, but it was familiar. It had the staples of a little Italian restaurant in the area, large menu, tacky-yet-endearing decor and affordable pricing.

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Roasted peppers are an Italian staple. They’re tangy and sweet and unctuous and go great on a variety of different dishes. They’re usually sold at delis and Italian specialty stores, and I imagine most people pick them up out of convenience. I’m not sure that people know how easy they are to make though.

All you need are four ingredients (five if you count salt) and a heat source to make them. Aside from the peppers (duh), you have olive oil, garlic and parsley. The parsley is a little touch I use for some color and a little bit of contrasting bitterness, but in essence, you could even leave it out. Better yet, if you have fresh parsley, use that instead of dried parsley flake. Always try to use fresh herbs if you can, but I understand if you don’t keep them in your house all the time.

Also, I prefer to use the grill for roasting, but the stove top or your oven are just as good tools to use if you don’t have a grill, or if it’s too cold or rainy to be outside. Then again, I don’t think it’s EVER too cold or rainy to grill, so suck it up and get out there if you have one!

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Bacon. I feel like it’s the perfect food. It’s salty, savory and versatile. I’m not the only one who feels this way. Bacon has become a meme, with a whole ton of people showing ridiculous fervor for the cured pork product.

Quite frankly, it would’ve been an upset if there wasn’t backlash against it.

There’s actually growing to be quite a vocal contingent of people who are tired of hearing about how bacon is the greatest thing since the blowjob. While I’m a bacon aficionado, I can understand why people don’t want to hear about bacon all day, every day. It’s the same reason why people who aren’t Yankee fans don’t want to hear about the Yankees 24/7. The latest manifestation of that backlash comes from fellow breakfast sandwich connoisseur Danger Guerrero at his TV blog, Warming Glow. He wrote a piece about a bacon reality show where he professed his disdain at the bacon mania and said sausage was better. That’s fine. What’s not fine? Some of the reactions. Here they are:

BRING BACK MATT [Ufford, founder and former editor]

You had me until you indicated that sausage is better than bacon at which point I realized you must be a crazy person.

Sausage over bacon? Are you fucking kidding me? SAUSAGE CANT CARRY A BREAKFAST LIKE BACON AND YOU KNOW IT. Bacon is Michael Jordan and Sausage is Toni Kukoc at best (Eggs are Pippen, obviously). Let’s just call you Skip Bayless from now on you contrarian taintwrap. Stick to Saved by theBell.

Ok Danger, I’ve been on fence concerning your quality as a writer for some time now but this article firmly plants me in the “fuck you bring back Matt column” you brought this on yourself, sausage is better than bacon? Fuck you.

 Bacon. sausage is for gay men.

Homophobia? Over breakfast meats? Really? As a card-carrying member of the bacon fanatics’ guild, I do not share these sentiments at all. I’m actually embarrassed. It’s one thing to have a difference of opinion over breakfast meats. It’s a whole other thing to call someone gay or say they’re not a good writer because they like sausage over bacon. That reflects poorly upon the bacon camp. That’s why people start making posts telling us to cool it on bacon fandom.

Because really? Bacon is a food. A delicious food, but it’s only a food. It’s not a religion. It’s not a hero. It’s not life. I think some in the bacon camp need to pump the brakes on the fanaticism, because I don’t want to see such a magnificent food get overexposed, nor do I want to see talented writers be disparaged over it.

There are a select few foods that are found in some iteration in nearly every culture. One such recurring theme in food is the art of grinding up some kind of meat, mixing it with some kind of binding agent and rolling it into spheres for consumption. The meatball is ubiquitous. Whether it’s served with red sauce/gravy and paired with pasta, dropped on a roll and slathered with pickled veggies as a banh mi, ladled with gravy and noodles in Norse style or however the culture of choice prepares it, it’s pervasive because it’s simple, versatile and often times delicious.

Unsurprisingly, in the States, the meatball is mostly lumped in with Italian cuisine. Spaghetti and meatballs has almost become an American staple with a hat tip to its Italian roots rather than something a lot of people consider Italian in nature. That being said, how many people have really, really had a meatball? I’m not talking about the frozen shit you get at the supermarket. In fact, I’m not even talking about a meatball you get out at most restaurants. Those things taste like bologna to me more often than not. While I’m not loathe to eating the ubiquitous lunchmeat on a sandwich or having it in tube form on a bun (seriously, a chub of bologna is just a really fat hot dog), I really don’t want to have that flavor be the main thing when I bite into a meatball. Call me a snob, but it seems like the only good Italian meatballs I’ve ever had were homemade.

There are plenty of foods out there that you can get out and have it be the same or better quality as what you’d get at home, but the Italian meatball is not one of them for me. Maybe I’m not looking in the right places. Maybe I was burned by one too many mediocre meat wads back in the day and just don’t care enough to try them when I know I’ll probably not like them. I’ve had plenty of kefta that have left me with my socks knocked off. Swedish meatballs are usually hit more than miss. What is it about the homemade Italian style?

I’m not sure, but I think that it has a lot to do with method and seasoning. The “bologna” taste of most meatballs out usually is because of overuse of black pepper, or more specifically, using more black pepper than garlic and cheese. The latter two ingredients usually enhance the flavor of whatever meat is being used (whether beef, beef/pork/veal mix or even turkey), while the black pepper overtakes, dominates and changes the profiles. Secondly, I’ve very rarely had a good meatball that wasn’t either seared off in the frying pan or baked in the oven first before being simmered in that big pot of gravy (or red sauce for those who aren’t used to calling it gravy).

For me, meat really isn’t the issue. My wife has made great turkey meatballs in an attempt to help keep the calories down, but we’ve actually both grown so sick of ground turkey lately. She made beef/pork/veal balls last week, and holy shit, I was in heaven. That’s what a great, Italian meatball should taste like.

No matter what culture though, the meatball is almost a sure thing on any menu. If you’re not really sure what to get the first time you go to a restaurant whose cuisine is new to you, look for a meatball. Chances are, you’ll find it on the menu and it’ll be pretty tasty. And if anyone can find a good meatball out there at an Italian restaurant that tastes like a good, homemade one? Let me know, because holy shit, they’re so hard to find.

I went to Frankford Hall near Frankford and Girard Aves. in Philly to kick off my brother’s bachelor party Friday night. I don’t want to do a review of the whole place, because of the circumstance and everything (although it is interesting and worth another visit not on a crowded bar night like Friday). However, I did want to share this dish that I had. It’s called the Ultimate Poutine. It’s an open-face cheeseburger with dry-aged beef, hand-cut French fries, fontina cheese and foie gras gravy on a slice of bread. Yes, I ate that shit up with the quickness because holy shit, it was like heaven on a plate.

I almost threw it up about an hour later after going to the nastiest strip club known to man, but that’s about all I can say. After all, it was a bachelor party, and really, you’re not supposed to talk about what goes on at bachelor parties. This burger though? It was way, way, WAY too awesome not to share.

(Photo via Foodspotting)

The West Chester institution was my stop for lunch today. Before you read any further, if you’re under the impression that this is the national sandwich chain with the slogan of “Freaky Fast” delivery, then you’re wrong. This is a totally different, one-off restaurant.

What I Ordered: Two hot dogs and a medium french fry

What I liked:

• The hot dogs were tasty and the buns were sturdy
• They had sriracha as a condiment
• Fries had good flavor

What I didn’t like:

• The casing was too tough

Overall Thoughts: I have been working in and around West Chester for over five years now, and whenever I’d head south from my office into Delaware via US 202, I’d always pass a roadside luncheonette with the big sign that said “Jimmy John’s Pipin’ Hot Sandwiches - Famous for Frankfurters”. I never ever stopped in, although I had heard very good things about it. Of course, that never stopping in thing almost came back to bite me in the ass, seeing as the building that had been standing after it was forcibly relocated thanks to road expansion in 1973 burned to the ground in 2010. Thankfully, they rebuilt, and I got the chance to stop in today for a quick lunch on my way back to the office from some field work.

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Beer is something you consume, so it belongs on a food blog. Fun fact, you know you can subsist on beer alone? Just don’t get piss drunk, and you can do it. Belgian monks used to (and maybe still do, who knows). This edition of the power poll is all about ales and lagers, hoppy and malty, bitter and sweet, and according to Benjamin Franklin, the thing that is proof that God loves us and wants us to be happy… BEER.

10. Yuengling Amber Lager (Draught Only)

I really don’t drink Lager (it’s the only beer in the area that’s known simply as “lager” for a reason) a whole lot anymore, but it’ll always have a place in my heart as the beer that made me love beer. Before I tried it, I just choked down the cheapest shit in order to get drunk. Ah, the days when I was an idiotic, peer-pressured teenager. Lager was the first beer I dug the taste of, and it made go out and seek more than just the piss-water light beers of the mainstream American breweries (although to be fair, I always liked the taste of Budweiser… don’t judge me). Now though, I really can’t drink it out of the bottle. It has to be draught, although cans are actually alright too.

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