Proper Delco Hoagies in Los Angeles
Elijah Wood told this guy to start selling sandwiches, so he did.
Heyo! Hope everybody had a good weekend. It’s Monday, and that means another edition of The Move.
I had a dope birthday on Friday, which was a surprise because I almost always have shitty birthdays. Part of why it was so damn good is because my dear, dear friend Laura “I missed my exit and I’m running 20 minutes late” Hoang made me the pie of my dreams.
This coconut banana cream pie garnished with blackberries, strawberries, and sungold tomatoes took me to a happy place I haven’t been since I was a kid. Those tomatoes might sound unorthodox, but trust me, they made perfect sense. We were fighting for the last pop of their sweet tartness and coconut cream.
Laura is one of the most talented people I know. She’s a hired gun culinary professional, doing all sorts of rad mercenary work. She’s got crazy good instincts, is funny as fuck, and just an overall delight. Follow her. If you pay her enough, she might even do some commission baking for ya.
On to the hoagie. But first, subscribe will ya?
Elijah Wood is The Reason This Guy Sells Hoagies
Joshua Noah Charles Agran started selling hoagies because Frodo gave him the nudge. He (Joshua, not Elijah) works at Cookbook in Highland Park. One day, he started making sandwiches with things they sell at the store—deli meats, little gem lettuce, Japanese tomatoes and pickles, and cheddar cheese. Basically, he was recreating the hoagies of his Delaware County upbringing by foraging around the bougie neighborhood grocery store at which he works. It should be noted that Cookbook doesn’t sell pepperoncinis, provolone, or mayonnaise (he had to walk to Smart & Final just to get mayo).
Elijah Wood, a regular at Cookbook, didn’t even try the sandwich but told Josh it looked so legit that he should do a pop-up. This is actually how most businesses get started in Los Angeles. One day you’re just cooking for friends, minding your own business, then BAM, Dominic Monaghan gives you the pep talk you need to start selling crawfish étouffée out of homemade bread bowls.
Josh is born and raised in Havertown, PA, which was “idyllic compared to the rest of Delco.” His business is called Delco Rose because a friend gave him shit for living in the nice part of Delaware County.
Say, “Oh, so you’re a Delco Rose” in a condescending Philly accent and that’s basically the origin story.
Alright, How’s The Hoagie???
Fuckin’ good.
The Italian, per the Instagram page, is made with Bub & Grandma’s jumbo baguette, a micro thin layer of mayonnaise, olive oil, red wine vinegar, lettuce, tomato, pepperoncini peppers, provolone, Genoa salami, Black Forest Ham, and prosciutto. That’s right, no capicola.
Joshua’s hoagie succeeds for two reasons: The Bub & Grandma’s jumbo French style baguette, and his staunch opinions regarding a proper Philadelphia hoagie.
Bub’s jumbo baguette is the ideal bread to make a Los Angeles-style hoagie, where the sandwiches tend to lean on the chewier side. The formidable bread is the perfect vehicle for a bunch of thinly sliced deli meats. It’s still light and soft, and definitely not as much jaw work as the filone-style loaf they’re doing over at Bay Cities. It’s got a bit of a wheat flavor to it, too. Definitely not the same as a sub roll back east, but still damn good. The crumb, as is standard with Bub’s breads, is exceptional. It’s funny to see a Delco deli hoagie with such artisanal bread, but it doesn’t just work, it’s impressive.
Speaking about Andy Kadin of Bub & Grandma’s, Joshua says, “[He’s] from New Jersey and his parents grew up just outside of Philly. I don’t think he necessarily set out to make the jumbo a hoagie friendly roll but his instincts made it so.”
What Separates a Good Hoagie From a Great One
Here are Joshua’s tenets for a great hoagie:
“First and foremost it’s the bread. Hands down the only thing you absolutely must get right. Philly (and some NJ) really pushes this more consistently than other places. Also not cutting it completely in half, the roll must stay connected. Third it has to be rolled up nice and tight. That makes it all come together and makes it easier to eat. You can eat that bad boy in your car on your lunch break and stay relatively clean.”
I love that his rules for making a good hoagie are paramount to practicality. Can I drive with my hoagie? Wave it around? Throw it an enemy and keep it intact? I should be able to. A hoagie should be able to withstand life. It’s not a hoagie if the bread is cut in half, if it needs a plate, if it threatens to spill out. That’s something else.
Bub’s Italian sandwich, which I absolutely love, is conversely cut completely in half. You have to sit down and eat it. Friend, food dude, and Philly raised guy Karl Hess expressed the same disappointment with this aesthetic. It’s something I’ve never really thought about, but they both got so fiery about it I had to concede.
It’s funny how the source of meat rarely comes up in conversations about good hoagies. It’s just always pretty standard, commercialized, grocery store stuff, but it doesn’t have to be anything else. Joshua gets his meat and cheese from Vons, and his veg from Superior. And I love that. A hoagie shouldn’t be so artisanal that it costs $20. People won’t pay it. $14 for Joshua’s sandwich is the perfect place to live here in Los Angeles. Especially given how filling and tasty the whole thing is.
As for his other sandwich opinions, he starts by shit talking mustard. “I’ve also found Italian sandwiches here that use mustard, it’s ridiculous.”
“I don’t like the hoagie spread,” he also says. I disagree with him here; I fucking love hoagie spread and I wish more sandwiches here had it, but there’s absolutely nothing wrong with his use of a proper (read: a lot) amount of pepperoncini peppers either. The thin layer of mayo, pepperoncini, oil, and vinegar is all a sandwich needs. Now that he mentions it, I really don’t even know what mustard does in an Italian sandwich. Get it off.
Joshua’s lettuce isn’t ultra thin like they do at Bub’s; it’s more rough chopped, and I really enjoy that. Of more importance, though, is that the red onions are shaved thin on a mandolin. A chunky red onion on a sandwich is an immediate disqualification.
This is exactly type of sandwich you’d get at a deli in Pennsylvania, only slightly elevated. It’s crazy how good bread elevates event he most basic meats, but I also think that’s exactly why Roma Market’s “The Sandwich” is so legendary. This sandwich takes me to the same place Roma’s does.
Joshua’s sandwiches are inspired by the corner stores, delis, and gas stations back East. Dew’s Deli, which sells their hoagies on Sarcone seeded rolls, “the crème de la crème of hoagie rolls.” He also mentions Ricci’s and Farina Devita as places back home serving high quality hoags. These institutions set the bar for his entire operation.
So where is he? You need to follow him to find out. This man is just getting started, but sometimes that’s where all the truly special food lives and breathes (ahem: Secret Pizza). Sometimes he’s at Echo Park Lake. This past Friday, I wandered around the park aimlessly looking for him before realizing he had a map attached to the hoagie announcement on his Instagram page.
For now, Joshua is popping up every Friday somewhere. You can sometimes catch him in Highland Park outside of Luca, and I imagine he’ll be adding other locations. Personally, I enjoy the hunt for hoagies at Echo Park Lake. I was pleasantly staggered to see a Delco dude slinging Italian sandwiches out of an Igloo cooler near street vendors selling bacon wrapped hot dogs, deformed Sonic The Hedgehog ice cream pops, and chicharrones de harina. It makes me dream of a world where hoagie carts carve out a place right next to the fruit stands in LA.
Maybe they will. The way Joshua makes them, nothing make more sense than a Delco hoagie at the park.
Delco Rose Hoagies
Follow on Instagram
He pops up every Friday.
Thanks for reading The Move! I’m Danny Palumbo, and I do this for free. How about that? Consider subscribing! Pay if you want!