Philly Willy
So lately my belly has become a bit of a meat pocket. Hmm? A meat pocket. A small-ish pouch inside my body intended for carrying delicious meats. Please don’t confuse meat pockets with actual pockets — denim is NOT a suitable to-go box alternative for your half-eaten steak dinner. Talk about learning things the hard way… I can’t take me anywhere.
Maybe it’s the swampy weather, maybe it’s the swine flu, but in the past few weeks I’ve been feeling unusually carnivorous. Case in point: on my recent trip to sleven, I was thisclose to buying a Slim Jim! Oh dear Lord in Heaven! Of course I didn’t, I bought some Chex and M&M’s instead (natch), but I seriously considered it. Oh Jessica, a Slim Jim? Imagine!
Anyway, back to filling up my meat pocket — can you imagine anything more delicious than thinly sliced beef tenderloin sauteed with onions and green peppers and then slathered with enough mozzarella and provolone to plug up even the cleanest of digestive systems for weeks on end? Somebody call Jamie Lee Curtis, STAT. That’s right. It’s always sunny Philly in Philadelphia. That city sure knows how to combine their meats and their cheeses, boy howdy. I had my first “authentic” Philly cheese steak last year when I visited my adorably adorable cutie-pie-face baby nephew, Jackson, who lives in Pennsylvania. On a side note, that kid is HUGE. Yuuuuuuge. I suspect the white substance in those bottles of his was actually a mixture of melted mozzarella and provolone… and invisible meat. Cheese steaks for everyone!
I have to admit, I was a little scared as I sniffed my way up to the street cart, trying to peak over the counter to assess the sanitation situation. There were a few possible health-code violations in my direct line of vision, but if I’ve learned anything from my own cooking, sometimes you gotta get a little dirty before you can get a lot delicious. Trust. Anyway, I was just going to be super cool and order exactly what the local-looking guy in front of me ordered, until he completely pussied out and got a salad - wait for it - a salad with Cheeze Whiz as the dressing. I don’t even have to say it. So when it was my time to order, me and the street cart guy shared an intense eyeroll and then I just asked him how he eats his cheese steaks. Since we both eyerolled a few seconds earlier, I wasn’t too worried that he’d say, “in salad form, with some whiz.” He told me he’d make me the usual and then got to grilling up some meat and real cheese and toasting my bun. Oh yeah he did. Then I ate it, and then the world was right again.
I hadn’t thought much about that fateful day in Philadelphia, until, as I mentioned earlier, my body started going all anti-vegetarian on me. I could just taste that meaty meat in my mouth. And since I’m also on this whole DIY kick - pizza anyone? - I thought I’d head to The Money Pit with my favorite Greek hottie to see what kind of damage we could do. And damage we did. As you can see from the picture up top, I effed up and bought the wrong type of bread, but then said eff it and pulled another 180 using Naan bread instead. This is exactly the type of quick-fire mistake I’m known for, because my biggest would-be mistakes always turn out to be my greatest ideas ever. The Naan was Top Notch. I filled up one side with my grilled meat/pepper/onion/cheese mixture then folded it over and pressed it in my poor man’s panini maker. The result? It was so authentic I could practically hear the Liberty Bell cracking. Mmmm hmmm.
So, long story not-so-short, I make a mean Philly Cheese Steak sammich. Well, with the Naan bread it’s more of a Philly-by-way-of-India Cheese Steak sammich, but who’s counting.
Next up? My adventure into the land of DIY quesadillas! ¡Olé!
