Heyo.
Short edition of The Move today. I’m in Western Pennsylvania, and I just cooked for my Aunt and Uncle. Their son, my cousin, passed away recently.
Probably one of the most human things you can do is cook for people who are grieving. Most of the time that food comes in the form of dropped-off soup, lasagna, and other comforting re-heats left at the door, but if you can ever wrangle in the mourning party to sit down and have dinner, I think it’s a huge service. Luckily, my folks did most of the talking while I stayed in the kitchen to conjure up a giant pot of orecchiette and short rib ragu. I don’t know how much it helped my Aunt and Uncle, but I hope the utter richness at least turned their racing thoughts to solid concrete.
If I could, I would stay in the kitchen forever. During parties, dates, and yes, even wakes. Maybe it’s some avoidant tendency I have, but keeping busy during any social interaction soothes my anxiety. If anybody has bad news to break, please, let me sharpen my knives and make a quick sugo finto.
Alright, enough about death!! Let’s talk about Primanti Brothers.
If you’re visiting Pittsburgh, people will tell you to go to Primanti Brothers. Here’s why you shouldn’t:
Look, I love Primanti. It’s an institution that’s vital to the identity of Pittsburgh, and perhaps no restaurant captures the character of the city quite like this old school sandwich joint. The first Primanti Brothers opened up shop in the Strip District in 1933, and since then they have expanded to dozens of other outposts stretching across multiple states. I keep saying it—regional food won’t be very regional before too long.
To me, The Strip District is the heart of Pittsburgh. It’s a one-half square mile chock full of grocers and restaurants that have supplied the city for over a 100 years. It’s the home of Pennsylvania Macaroni Company, a storied deli and Italian-provisions store which carries some of the best cheese in the god damn country. Seriously, their dairy program rocks. Get the Genuine Fulvi Pecorino Romano. It’s sharp and milky and just damn good. The Strip also houses Stamoolis Brothers, a rare Greek food store that’s survived since 1908. The owners have cultivated relationships with food purveyors from Greece for close to a century, and it has some of the most exciting imported Greek foods you can find.
Stamoolis rocks, and was the subject of an article I wrote over the Summer for the Pittsburgh Post-Gazette, which you can read here.
Now you’ve probably heard of Primanti Brothers from a friend or watched some mechanical Food Network host shove one of these sandwiches down their gullet. You’ve also likely heard these lifeless crooks with shark marbles for eyes narrate something like, “What makes Primanti Brothers so different? Well, they put French Fries in their sandwiches!!!” But here’s the truth you should know about French fries in a sandwich: It just doesn’t fucking work, man.
The sandwiches at Primanti Brothers are an unmitigated mess. They come served on wax paper (which I love!), but the sheer amount of meat, slaw, and fries means your sandwich is a heaving, confounding predicament. The sandwich topples and spills and slips—there’s simply no cohesiveness. Interestingly, Primanti Brothers lore will tell you these sandwiches were made for dock workers and truck drivers who “needed their sandwiches on the go” so in an effort to streamline the whole lunch experience, the fries were placed in the sandwich instead of on the side.
This is a story that I have worked towards fully debunking. The story per Primanti Brothers website,
The story might be half hazy memory, half lore - but it's all true. According to Joe's nephew John DiPriter: "One winter someone drove up with a load of potatoes. He brought them over to the restaurant to see if they were frozen. I fried the potatoes on our grill and they looked pretty good. A few customers asked for them - so I tossed them on the sandwich." The sandwich was an instant hit - allowing all of the drivers working near the restaurant to eat with one hand - and drive their truck with the other.
It’s a neat story, but falls in line with other unbelievable food inventions like the chimichanga, which was supposedly conceived after a woman serendipitously fumbled her burrito into a perfectly good deep fryer. To put the practicality of the Primanti Brothers sandwich to the test, I actually ate a pastrami and cheese while driving. Luckily, nobody died, but I’m here to tell you that your chances of involuntary manslaughter go up by at least 30%.
The biggest problem with Primanti Brothers, though, isn’t even that the sandwich falls apart faster than the Dodgers in the playoffs last year (HEYO), it’s that French fries on a sandwich just make for a worse sandwich.
The fries here add nothing. They provide starchy filling, but it’s just that—filling. You know how you sometimes get a bowl of clam chowder that’s all potatoes and no clams? That’s what the Primanti Brothers sandwich is. The taste is all starch. It saps the flavor from the slaw, the meat, and the cheese completely. I don’t know about you, but when I order a sandwich I want a synergy of flavors. I want methodical, engineered balance and a proper ratio of ingredients.
Also, the fries at Primanti Brothers are simply not good. They’re limp, floppy dicks. Zero crisp. Zero texture. They use the potato punch method for sure, but these fries don’t seem blanched or twice-fried. They likely go straight from the puncher to the fryer, which as everybody alive has noted, is not the way to cook French fries.
It should be said that the slaw at Primanti Brothers rules. It’s perfectly sweet, tangy, and crunchy. I love that it’s sliced ever-so thinly. The bread, though fresh, is a bit too soft and the whole thing gets soggy quick. For all of Primanti Brothers faults, the bread almost never gets brought up, but it’s simply too soft to make a hefty sandwich.
Still, I would order the slaw in bulk, and I’ve been tempted in the past to request fries on the side, but I feel like somebody would rightfully take issue with that.
There are a billion other places to get sandwiches in Pittsburgh; tons of restaurants and foods to explore. If you know me, you know I’m a champion of French fries on a salad, which actually add texture and flavor to the salad experience. French fries on a sandwich, though it may be Pittsburgh’s calling card, is simply a let down.
I’m here to offer a solution, though. If you’re going to add potatoes to a sandwich, make it chips. Chips add crunchy, delicious taste, and there are so many different chip flavors that the chip + sandwich flavor equations are endless. Million dollar idea: A restaurant that exclusively puts chips on their sandwiches.
Of note: All the sandwiches at Primanti Brothers cost around $10. That’s just a great price for fries and a sandwich. Working class through and through. A filling budget meal for tough times, just don’t expect greatness.
That’s it! Thanks for reading The Move. Hopefully I’ll be in Detroit by April 10th, so in the meantime, I’ll be covering Western Pennsylvania.
And also awwwww shit! It’s almost foraging season! I’ll be sure to get out there and find ramps, morels, and chanterelles before too long. You can expect some novice foraging content in the coming months!
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