I flew back from Philadelphia the other day. I get crazed before I fly; I find it unbelievable that a many-ton metal tube won't fall out of the sky. It's also hard to say good-bye to my family. But amidst my packing chaos, I had the good sense to holler down to my dad and ask him to call Lee's Hoagie House and order an Italian hoagie packed for travel.
This priceless gift (well, $5.95 for a half, which is huge) comes on an Amoroso roll made by Italians in South Philly sometime the night before, then has peppered ham, Genoa salami, Capocollo and another kind of salami, provolone cheese, shredded lettuce and tomato, oregano, and I like it with thinly sliced onion and oil, plus sweet peppers. Simple, right? Kind of in the 'duh' category, yet behold this magnificence:
Why can no one in L.A. come close to this masterpiece?
I ate half on the plane, and then polished off the rest of it last night at a friend's place. The last bit of hoagie or cheesesteak is always bittersweet: I know I'll have to make do with taco stands again, and it means I won't see anyone I'm related to for a while... at this point in my life, that really is a bummer.