Grandma Loves You
I’ve been making more of an effort to discover the smaller spots. The ones that are physically smaller, yes. The places that exist on the corners of streets, hidden beside laundromats and convenient stores. The neighbourhood institutions that only have one tabletop, so it’s better to get it and go. Every food spot needs help, but my heart is more attracted to these ones because it’s the same people doing their small part in THIS world we’re in. It also helps if all I see are insta posts where each sandwich looks king. Grandma Loves You. My guy, trussssss me, I felt loved. This is already on my grails list, let me tell you why.
One of the saddest moments of my university career was when the $5 footlongs at Subway stopped being a thing. I was built by the meatball sub there, molded by it, and it was devastating when I now had to pay full price. It was never the same after that.
Meatball subs occupy a different space in my brain. A space dedicated to happiness, safety, warmth, comfort. Where the meatballs prance in the tomato sauce river, and the bun is sunbathing with the tomato, onions, lettuce, cheese. Something so simplistic in idea, yet so beautiful in creation. I know, I’m saying a lot of frufru shit, talking about happiness and rivers. But I fucking love an amazing meatball sandwhich. I came across a grail here kids, and this might have set the standard for me.
The meatball has to be king. If I get sawdust in my sub, we got a problem. This meatball is soft, and the meat to breadcrumb ratio is money, giving me a meatball that is not, in fact, like sawdust. Much more like a bella meatball I would have on the regular. Not overpowering, not over mushy, not dry. Dependable and delicious.
There’s not one specific thing about this meatball sub that makes it as good as it is. No superstar player, but a superstar team. The sum is greater than its parts. You get me.
It truly is a thing of beauty. I can never get over how good the cross section of a bella sandweech can look. It’s the colour baby. The lettuce contrasted by the brightness of the tomato and salami. The pale colour of the turkey, a familiar colour, looking the same it always did. There’s nothing to hide here. I see everything I’m going to eat.
My benchmark to see if a sandwich spot is really something I need to think about is if their cold cut offering comes correct. It’s the most classic item they should have on their menu, and again, no surprises. If they bread is old, I’ll know. If the lettuce is wilty, sauce too watery, meat sad and empty. I’ll know. If all those things are what they should be, and whatever sauce you add makes me really think about it again, then there’s something there. I want more.
This tasted so good, and it was a heavy boy. When I got inside and ordered this they asked me what meat I wanted. Give me the special, I said, the one everyone gets. Salami and turkey was the way. Bread was soft, but kept it’s integrity. There is nothing worse than bread cutting up the roof of my mouth and everything inside is slipping and sliding. You’ve had a sandwich split on you and half the shit falls in your lap.
The meat is what it should be, and there’s a lot of it. Nothing better than taking a bite and you see a perfect bite cutting straight through the layers. Lettuce crisp, tomato fresh.
What really set this en fuego is their sauce. They call it homemade special sauce, I call it crack. Reminds me of a giardiniera because it’’s acidic from the vinegar and has peppers, but it’s also packing hella garlic. Every bite is garlic infused, and that set it apart for me. Garlic is love, garlic is life, garlic made me think about this bella sandweech for a while after I finished it. So so so so so good.
I get really excited when I find a place that makes me think. There are a million places serving a million things in this city, so it's just more likely a place is going to be forgettable than it is amazing. I love my food city, but some things hit, and some don't. So imagine my pure joy when I find my new sandwich spot is 15 min away. Legit pure joy. Joy in its most pure form. Grandma Loves You, loves me, loves what they do, loves a fucking bella sandweech. Get me these for my birthday, I'll love you.