Taking a Big Bite out of History

Everyone knows the old saying, "When in Rome, do as the Romans do".  I take this saying to mean that whenever you visit a new locale, you need to check out the celebrated fare and beverage.  So, when my girlfriend and I headed to Pittsburgh for a quick overnight trip to Pittsburgh earlier this week, national chain restaurants were not an option.  It was my first time (save airport layovers) visiting the Steel City, and there was one thing that I just HAD to try:  A sandwich from the original Primanti Brothers Restaurant.  As seen on the Food Network and revered by many, this staple of Pittsburgh dining in the middle of the Strip District has been drawing crowds for several generations.  The typical Primanti sandwich consists of meat, cole slaw, and fries shoved comfortably in between to pieces of French bread.  The point of combining the ingredients was so that truck drivers and workers could eat with one hand while driving with the other.  Almost eighty years, it's a must-see for those visiting downtown, and one would be remiss to leave the city without wolfing down a sandwich that represents Pittsburgh's hard-working persona.  So, after a night of many beers, we headed downtown the next morning to visit the town's most famous dining option.

Pardon my French, but Pittsburgh is a clusterfuck, from a driver's standpoint.  The bridges, roads, and rivers provide interesting urban scenery and topographic texture, but finding your way around is a nightmare.  Even with a co-pilot manning a GPS, you're bound to get turned around once or twice.  I'm going to assume that the person(s) that put signs on the bridges was killed by angry Pittsburghers.  The hunger was building, but eventually we arrived in the Strip District, an area of old markets and warehouses next to the Allegheny River.  Under grey skies and in an area that hearkened back to the heavy industrial days of yore, we spotted the scene of the culinary crime that was about to occur.

As cold on the outside as it was on the inside

We walked in and experienced a little difficulty in the seating department.  After being told to seat ourselves, we plopped down in a booth, much to the chagrin of the Eastern European girl behind the bar.  It seems the booth was off limits, so she instructed our waitress to awkwardly move us to another table.  No matter; we checked out the wall menu and ordered cheese steak and pastrami sandwiches. The countdown was on.

Timeless menu, adorned with holiday cheer

We were surrounded by Steelers fans and ghosts of blue-collared workers from the past.  Even though my body craved water, I couldn't pass up washing down the sandwich with a beer, so I ordered a bottle of Yuengling.  Less than five minutes later, the main attraction had arrived.

Let's get down to business

The sandwich arrived on wax paper, with no utensils and no condiments on the table except hot sauce.

Upon further inspection, I'm going to make a mess

So we dug in, barely breathing as we tore down Pittsburgh's finest.  The cheese steak was more of a burger, actually, and the thick-cut bread sopped up the greasy fries, cole slaw that would usually make up side dishes.  The sandwiches were good, but they're not going to bowl you over with flavor.  the most distinctive flavor came from the slaw, which was vinegar-based and quite zesty.  I thought the sandwich would be much larger, but to be honest, the size was perfect for one sitting.  With nothing but scraps on the table, we moved on to the next task:  Payment.  Another look at the menu board confirmed our fear- the joint is cash only.  Anxiety struck.  We only had credit cards... This woman is going to kick our asses!!

Bourdain on the tube.  Hey, yinz know it's cash only?

Luckily, there's an ATM in the lobby, so I finished my beer and headed over to the bar/cashier and handed said bitchy European woman a $20.  She placed three dollar bills on the counter, which I planned on putting down on the table as a tip for our waitress.  But before I could pick up the change, she grabbed them back and thanked me.  I would have rather ripped up the bills and thrown them away than hand them to her.....

We headed out the door with our bellies full and a couple observations and future tips on the whole experience.  I'll pass them along, so that you don't look like a fool if/when you go in:

1) Primanti Brothers is fast food.  Don't go in with the expectations of a normal, sit down dining experience.  The purpose of the place is to get you in and out the door.

2) Act like you own it.  The place can be a little intimidating to the noob, so look like you know what you're doing.  When they ask you to seat yourself, sit down and start ordering.  Be decisive and quick.  It may help your cause to black and gold.

3) Order the corned beef or pastrami.  There was very little flavor to the meat, and it made the sandwich pretty bland overall.  Good, but bland.  Erin's corned beef sandwich had a lot more flavor.

4) Go for the experience.  This place is the heart and soul of Pittsburgh, and nostalgia central.   Nothing against Primanti's but I can get a much tastier sandwich in my own neighborhood at Snarf's or Denver Ted's.  Heck, you can get much better food directly outside Primanti Brothers from street vendors on Penn. Avenue.  But you miss out on the experience and the chance to glimpse into yesteryear.

5) Prepare yourself for kitschy, abrasive "charm".  I had no idea that part of the allure was the fact that they seem irritated that you're there.  Personally, I think a smile and attitude goes a long way, but dealing with perpetually grey skies and people in a hurry would piss me off, too.

6) Bring cash.  I'm sure the other 19 or so Primanti Brothers restaurants take credit cards, but they seem to relish in only taking cash at the original.  Irritating?  Yes.  It's a big tourist attraction. But the prices are reasonable, and they do have an ATM, so deal with it.

7) Go in drunk.  Preferably really late night at night, when you're drunk.  It's perfect for 3 AM, as it's not spicy and it will soak everything up. 


Truth be told, I liked the place, and I liked the sandwich.  I would go again, fully prepared with adjusted expectations.  Are there better places to eat in the City of Bridges?  Certainly.  But when you one-hand a Primanti sandwich, you're saluting the thousands and thousands of millworkers and wholesalers who needed a good, cheap meal-and didn't have the time to enjoy it or even eat it with two hands.  Foodies, add this to your "to-do" list, and in the meantime check out their website.  Enjoy, and remember to support independent restaurants!

Damn, it Feels Good to be a Gangsta...

So I was putzing around yesterday....the skies were kind of grey, and I was doing some light reading.  My friend called and suggested that we visit a Prohibition-style bar set in the middle of LoDo called Green Russell.  If you're a Denverite, you probably don't view LoDo as a place that you go out of your way to frequent, especially on weekend nights.  But I hadn't eaten much of anything, and the idea of trying out a new place for happy hour cocktails and appetizers sounded pretty reasonable, so I got directions and punched the coordinates in my iPhone and took a shower.  I also noticed that there wasn't really much information on the website, which basically just told you that the venture was part of a syndicate of restaurants around town.  I headed down to Larimer Square, which is a neat little area of historic brick buildings on the side of downtown.  Draped with strings of lights and brimming with an increasing number of al fresco dining options, it looks like an interesting place to walk through-contrasting Denver's many 80's-era skyscrapers.  So I parked and set out to find the entrance to the nouveau speakeasy.  Speakeasies, of course, became popular after the passing of the Eighteenth Amendment, which prohibited the manufacture and sale of alcohol.  Underground establishments were supplied booze by bootleggers (often with mob connections) and frequently became the "place to be" for entertainment, especially for high-class citizens including the gangsters themselves.  Today, alcohol is legal, but the Depression-era look is back in style.  These type of bars have been popping up in cities lately, with differing levels of adherence to the details of the era.  I read that this particular speakeasy had a "front" business set up to cover up the entrance to the bar.  So as I walked up to the facade, I began to wonder if how I would even make my way into place, without some awkwardness....

Am I cool enough to find the bar?  And will I know the password to get in?


I crossed the street, not really sure where to go.  But as I started to text my friend, I noticed a little sign for "Wednesday's Pie"-the supposed front for Green Russell.  Noting that this general area can be full of d-bags-especially on weekends, I wondered what to expect inside.

Well, I doubt anybody gave HIM the secret password.  So if he gets in, I'm cool.


Once you pass through "Wednesday's Pie" (which apparently is open only on Wednesdays and only serves pies), people in Great Depression-era clothing meet you in front of a door that looks like a service entry to a kitchen.  As they lead you in the bar, you can see that this is a well-executed re-creation, from the copper ceiling to the old-timey but classy bar, replete with apothecary shelf (Vanilla cardamom, random extracts, bitters).  Cool bar, cool seats, newspaper boy hats on young mostly male servers wearing ties.... Well, you get the picture.  The place was very well done, very hip and sophisticated but comfortable at the same time.

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Dear Apple, please release the iPhone 5 so that us 3GS users can stop taking crappy pictures in low lighting......

Apothecary, featuring hard to get items like eye of newt, tongue of frog, wool of bat, and tongue of dog....

We sat down around a table that faced the bar.  The bartender, in a smart vest and a throwback getup (which mildly suggested he may play stand-up bass for an Avett Brothers knock-off band in town) walked from around the bar to get our order.  I asked for suggestions that include bourbon, and he asked a lot of questions to determine what type of cocktail I was really looking for.  We settled on a simple concoction of bitters, a freshly chipped piece of block ice, and a glass of Pappy Van Winkle Family Reserve 20 Year, frequently regarded as the best bourbon whiskey in the world.  I took particular interest in the crafting of the drinks, partially because my idea of spending $15 at happy hour for dinner and drinks was going out the window with this one libation alone, and partially because if I spend $12 on a drink, there should be a damned good story to go along with it).  Our bartender, Matt, obliged with the storytelling and even raised the bar with the well-executed infusion of flaming orange zest. 

                              No, it's not a Flaming Dr. Pepper.

The drink was delicious.  I'm a weirdo about different types of ice, and the block ice interacted wonderfully with the twenty year-old bourbon.  For a spirit this good, I don't recommend adding too much of anything, so a touch of bitters and a kiss of burnt citrus zest was just subtle enough to not get in the way of the wheat-based bourbon's aged flavour.  Letting the drink roll around in my mouth, I could taste the influence of a lot of ingredients dance around.  It was definitely a treat for my taste buds.  About that time, my stomach started begging me for dinner, but I wanted to take my time with the cocktail, so the four of us at the table all ordered small plates or small snacks.  I ordered the pigs in the blanket, which consisted of a piece of tender pork belly in a puff pastry with three mustard-based dipping sauces.  I got a picture of the dish, but it was too dark and the image didn't do the "pigs" justice.  The stuffed mushrooms were filled with pork, herbs, and Gruyere cheese.  I'm not the biggest mushroom fan, but I had more than one.  Other small plate items included a decadent smoked Trout spread and baguettes, and paper-thin sliced aged ham with tiny biscuits and some type of out of this world jelly spread....

             Okay, let's say it together.  Yummmmmmm.......

The small plates were $6 to $13, I believe.  The portions are small, but the attention to detail is impressive.  The service is a little more personal than the average bar, but it can be slow sometimes when things get busy.  It bears mentioning that they have a few quirky rules, but they don't get in the way of a good time, and probably keep miscreants out:  Cell phone use is limited to only in the designated phone booth and there's no standing around (to be served a drink, you must be at the bar, or at a table or booth).  Oh, and make sure you make reservations-even for one drink.  Don't say I didn't warn you.

There's no way that most of us could afford to be a regular at this bar, and filling up your gullet at Green Russell would cost a fortune.  I personally left there lighter in the wallet and still hungry, but at least with a sophisticated little buzz.  Afterward, we left and I spent the most money I've ever spent on a Mexican entree.  Perhaps that's a blog entry for another day.  Back to the speakeasy- if you want to take a date to a hip place, impress a friend from out of town, have a drink before or after dinner, or if you're just seeking refuge from the roving gangs of toolbags in LoDo, I'd recommend checking out this interesting trip to yesteryear and relaxing for a bit!  And, if you like the way Robert Redford dresses in The Sting, or you've ever fantasized about a Mumford and Sons bandmember serving you a drink, by all means head down there as soon as possible!



*On a side note, I have nothing against the Avett Brothers or Mumford and Sons.  I'm just noting the recent resurgence of love for folky Americana.  I'd love to write about it, but I don't think I can do any better at summarizing my views about the bands than this article.  Read the whole article; it is absolutely hilarious.