The preeminent sandwich of my lifetime, could be found just three
blocks from my parents' house. Several years ago the sub-shop
inexplicably shutdown. I was devastated.
I roamed the San
Fernando Valley in search of something that could take it's place. I'd
find the right pickles (chopped dill), but the seasoning would be off.
I'd find the right seasoning, but the bread would be off (thick sesame
roll.) I found good sandwiches, but never my sandwich.
In high school I introduced a friend, to the sandwich. He shared the same yearning for Turkey Breast, Pickles, Onions, Provolone, Oil, Salt & Pepper (hold the Tomatoes.)
Using "Web 2.0 skills" he asked if anyone knew where to find a spot-on
replica of this sandwich.
Within an hour, he got a response. A user claimed that the sandwich existed somewhere in the depths of the West Valley.
Skepticism arose from deep inside my belly.
The
San Fernando Valley has half-a-dozen "Giamela's Submarine Sandwiches."
The restaurants were ostensibly founded by an Italian family. Somewhere
in history, probably during the late-1980s, Signor Giamela sold his
North Hollywood branch to a Chinese family.
This family made their sandwiches differently than the namesakes.
Their
family loved mine. They knew our names, we did not know theirs. They
used to give us Chinese beer calendars and disgusting lychee candy. It
was that they cared, that counted. That same care was what went into
those sandwiches.
On Sunday, we investigated the
mimetic nature of this sandwich in Chatsworth. Could a sandwich in the
wastelands of the West Valley, be the one I had been looking for?
The
parking lot of the Lamplighter on Nordhoff had a sign that proclaimed
"We now serve Giamela's Sandwiches!" The Lamplighter is a depressing
coffeeshop, which serves overpriced overcooked blue-plate specials to
overweight people. And, we hoped, two delicious sandwiches to two
overly eager nostalgists.
After reading through the various
renditions of the lunch specials (which look conspicuously like the
dinner specials) we were given the Giamela's page. Promptly, I ordered
the usual, then sat back and waited nervously.
The minutes moved
slowly, as butterflies accumulated around my kidneys. My mind was
temporarily put at ease when they offered to refill our gigantic Cokes.
Then, the sandwiches arrived.
I gazed into the sandwich, and that sandwich gazed back into me.
In one bite, it became evident. This was not my sandwich.
There
was too much 'submarine sandwich dressing.' The bread was floppy. The
meat was cut too thick. The sandwich was decent. But as you know, it's
hard to make a bad sandwich, and exponentially harder to make a great
one.
The journey into the bleakness of that place, was only
worthwhile because I knew that I never needed to return. But, I still
have faith that my sandwich is out there, and I will find it.
Joshua Heller is a writer who travels, a lot. His favorite food is tacos. Check out his blog: http://hellerscorner.blogspot.com