I have tuned in to Penn Station!!

Penn Station Subs – where have you been all my life? I failed to pack a lunch today so ventured out to one of the local fast food establishments for lunch.  Typically, I would not feel compelled to blog about a fast food experience, c’mon, we all know they are just mediocre.  Or just bad. But the sub I got today was amazing. Really.  I ordered the steak and cheese, with melty ooey gooey provolone cheese, grilled onions and banana peppers.  The sub bun, more like home cooked French bread, was crispy on the outside and chewy inside, and still warm, just how bread was born to be.  The steak was tender, not gristly (which is one of my key indicators of a good cheesesteak sandwich) and the rest of the toppings all melted together in 8 inches of pure heaven. (Yes, I will do you ALL a favor and NOT add an Omar comment here!!)

Let’s talk about the French fries.  I am a French fry snob as some of you know.  I feel fries are only worth eating in one of three ways, fat, tender, crispy steak fries, skinny, salty shoestrings, or, and this is exactly how Penn Station’s fries were prepared, natural cut, a bit brown, and drizzled with malt vinegar.  In my opinion, any restaurant that has malt vinegar out next to the ketchup is doing it right. Five Guys Burgers is one who does it right with the fries.  Granite City used to have the world’s best skinny fries. Salty and served up in a small metal cup.  Our last venture there, we discovered the fries had changed, hopefully temporarily or I will cry.  The waiter at Granite City had no idea the fries had changed, nor do I think, he really cared.

Which brings me to my Frirade as I will call it.  That is a fry tirade.  I abhor the latest craze “crispy fries” or “battered fries”.  They are frankly an abomination and I simply cannot waste the calorie intake on them. When I go to a dining establishment, and deciding between a sandwich or salad, it is the fries that will determine which way I order. Unfortunately, most wait staff have NO idea what I am referring to when I ask “do you have those battered fries?” Most say, “No, we have AWESOME fries” and proceed to bring me the most NOT awesome battered fries, which really makes my belly sad.

I could go on and on with my Frirade all day.  Come on people, cut up a potato and drop it au naturel in some delicious boiling fat and throw some salty goodness on them.  That is the way they were intended to be prepared.

So, Penn Station, your subs rule, you do your fries right, and I think I love you.