Dat roast pork sandwiches (Taylor's Gourmet)

If you've read my blog consistently - which admittedly is probably pretty difficult lately given my ass-clown posting frequency - you probably realize I have no real love lost for Philadelphia. Most of my memories about the city are pretty shitty. Philly drivers are entirely assholes towards cyclists, and while the riding is absolutely sick - I had more than a few close encounters with cars, the 'subway' system smells like cat pee and weird handsoap, and the city all-in-all shuts down at 10 pm unless you plan on getting hammered as if you were stuck in colonial times. Freakin' Quakers. That said, to be entirely fair - it's also home to a dope-ass Korean-Japanese food truck that pimps a bulgogi cheesesteak (with the nicest old couple running shit ever) and a couple of the best burgers I've eaten in my short cholesterol-laden life (which is actually serious praise considering how many burgers I put away thus far)... but most of it is shitty. That said, one area that Philly absolutely killed at was sandwiches. Maybe it's all the old-fashioned Italian delis... or maybe it's all fo the old-fashioned Italian bakeries churning out some seriously sensual bread fumes... but mash those two components together and you have something absolutely magical. One of the few things I legitimately miss about Philadelphia: Italian roast pork sandwiches.



Look at that rod of hot Italian pork. Not unlike Gary Oak - this is a sandwich where you "can't ignore its girth." Don't be deceived by the generic deli look here - the amount of meat packed inside the core of the baguette is unbelievable - it's almost as if someone hollowed out the bread beforehand to violate the center pocket with an additional quantity of pork. I don't remember how much it was (it has been over a year since I've eaten one of thes fuckers), but I would most certainly pay a bounty of gold to taste that sweet porcine folded meat right now. Goddamn.



There's something distinctly indescribable about the flavor combination in these sandwiches. Roast pork au jus, a very distinctively sharp provolone, garlicy olive-oil laden broccoli rabe, and a seeded hoagie - there's absolutely no complexity in the construction, but the depth of flavor it brings is like getting punched in the face while wearing braces. Except in a good way. Less painful, more delicious. Taylor's Gourmet manages to deliver on nostalgia like a boss. Their roast pork is as moist as my pants just thinking about it, the bread softer and fluffier than Jigglypuff. Shit... that's soft. Despite the their location in Washington DC, they've forgotten absolutely nothing about the OG roots that make this sandwich the crown tit's of Philadelphia (honestly, it deserves to be held in higher regard than the cheesesteak). Good on ya' bros.

tl;dr - writing this post reminded me of how much I think Philadelphia sucks. Except for the food, they got that shit locked down. In spite of how much their subway system smells like a delightfully pungent combination of homeless pee and cheap handsoap, I think they're really good at making roast pork sandwiches. Taylor Gourmet makes them pretty good.

Taylor Gourmet
485 K St NW Washington, DC 20001
Read more...

Ben's Chili Bowl (more food that looks like poo)

Last April, I had a chance to visit DC on a business trip (how's that for backlogged!) and instead of focusing on what I was supposed to actually accomplish for work, my mind drifted instead to what I wanted to eat. The only thing that actually came to mind was Ben's Chili Bowl, a joint made famous by President Obama for something called the "half smoke." While I never really expect any hot dog to transcend all culinary achievement, I was definitely intrigued when I saw Danny's photo of it - noting that it looks like a poo covered hot dog. Going by my faithful doctrine, that meant one thing: it had to be good. Also I'm a huge fan of processed meat and chili, so there really wasn't much that could go wrong here. Plus, look at that line! While that would normally be a deterrent in Chinatown, for non-Asian cuisine? That many people crowding a single establishment gives me a food-stiffy. What glory does this pseudo-shit covered meat amalgam hide? Is it as wonderful as our dear leader say it is?

That shit is so cash.



That said, I'm also the type of guy who's okay with NYC hot dog carts (not with the price, but with the taste), questionable street meat, and weird deli sandwiches - so take whatever I say about the half smoke with a grain of salt, but shit... they've got their chili and hot dog knowledge down. Sure, NYC has Crif Dog, which for all intents and purposes is 'okay,' and we have Japadog, which I think is insanely overpriced for what it is, but is still good, but whoever Ben is... he basically shits on them when it comes to dog tech.



THIS IS 'MERICUH. Look at this All-American meal - an order of a half smoke, a giant bowl of perfectly golden fries, and a huge-ass chocolate shake. I'd be unpatriotic if I didn't eat it all. And you know what? It was wonderful. Surrounded by freedom, I hugged my arteries with the love of thousands of calories. The delicious sweetness of hearty chili, whose consistency was halfway between lentil and meat, combined with a saltiness unmistakably associated with heavily processed meats bundled oh-so-tight in a snappy casing overwhelmed my tasted buds with flavor (and my heart with imminent pain). Past that... it was inevitable, Ben's half smoke would surely deliver freedom to my bowels in a way that hasn't been seen since we signed the Declaration of Independence. Just kidding, it wasn't that monumental, but it was damn good. At the end of the day, it's just a hot dog covered with chili, but me saying that alone should be good enough. Both those things are fucking fantastic and should need no further endorsement.

tl;dr - I found more food that looks like poo, this time it's a chili dog that some dude named Obama fucking loves. It tastes like Freedom, and will likely liberate your asshole the next day.

Ben's Chili Bowl
1213 U Street Northwest, Washington, DC 20009
Read more...