||| ORCASIONAL MUSINGS BY STEVE HENIGSON |||
I was all set to write about the wild turkeys of Raccoon Point, this week, when, as Robert Burns once pointed out, “the best-laid schemes o’ mice an’ men gang aft agley.” A medical issue took up Thursday, my entire writing day, because I had to go to the mainland for some special laboratory work.
I absolutely hate blood draws, thanks to a childhood trauma, but if I’m coöperative, and if I don’t make too much of a fuss, in return I get to look forward to a special reward for being a good patient. My wife treats me to a Subway sandwich.
After years of experimentation, I have discovered that a certain very special combination of Subway’s sandwich-bar ingredients will unite to form an extremely close approximation of a really good Philadelphia cheese steak.
Now, I’m an ex-New-Yorker, but I do have Philadelphia experience. For instance, I’m pretty sure that I was the first man to have spent the entire night, undisclosed, in a Bryn Mawr dormitory, back when it was a women-only college. I slept in the same room as a very good friend and her roommate, but in a sleeping-bag, and on the floor. And, yes, I had scrapple in the morning, and a cheese steak on my way home.
This past Thursday I screamed only once, and not too loudly at that, so after the blood had been drawn, we made our way to the Subway sandwich store. And there I found a small, hand-lettered sign on the countertop which informed me that, when this particular Subway has run out of its current supply of roast beef, it will be permanently removed from the menu.
As I’ve already written, it has taken years of experimentation to reach the West-Coast nirvana of cheese-steak approximation, and now the roast-beef rug was being rudely yanked from beneath my unwilling feet. Well, OK, is there some other delicatessen nearby, which boasts the correct ingredients to make the treat that I crave? Safeway? The Market? Haggen’s? Nope. Doesn’t look like it. Well, I guess there’ll be no more blood tests for me. If I have to go hungry, then the local Dracula will have to, also.
Legendarily, W.C. Fields wrote his own epitaph, which states, “On the whole, I’d rather be in Philadelphia.” And now, after a blood test, and betrayed by Subway, so would I.
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We went to a Subway on the New York toll road last year during our cross-country drive-a-thon, and they had no BREAD. None. As for approximating cheesesteaks, it is a futile task. Better to fly back to Philly. Cheesesteaks, hoagies, water ice and soft pretzels. P.S. I challenged the owner of the Philly Cheesesteak food truck at CenturyLink field a few years back, saying you couldn’t have a real one without the right rolls. He took me to the back of the truck and showed me the Amoroso boxes. Blown away.
Here on Kaua’i, Costco sells frozen Philly cheesesteaks in 6-packs. They’re not bad and a quick fix after 2 minutes in the microwave, dressed with Duke’s mayo and chili crisp. Check Amazon for the latter two ingredients.
Also here at the Kaua’i Costco they sell thinly shaved ribeye rhat is popular in Korean bulgogi. 3 slices in a pan with sliced onion, Tillamook cheddar, Duke’s and chili crisp on the best roll you can find – yum.
I lived in Wilmington DE when I worked at Du Pont. There was a cheesesteak joint a couple of blocks away that was the beginning of my obsession.