My wife and I are vacationing in the US, to help her get some rest, and
gain back some weight.
Anyways...
While inflicting myself on a hapless Chi-town, I decided to look up this joint,
"The Silver Palm", which food-critic Anthony Bourdain very recently proclaimed
as serving the absolute best sandwich in America: the meal in question being
interestingly and appropriately named "Three Little Piggy's":
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TGuqI84_QNc
Since I'd found quite a few of Bourdain's other declarations spot-on, hell,
I thought I'd go out, and try one of those badboys.
The Silver Palm
Last Sunday (Aug 23-09) my wife and I, her sister, and her nephew drove
downtown and found "The Silver Palm". There was only curbside parking all
around the block, which burns about $1 an hour.
There's a small bar (same name) that spills out onto the sidewalk, and
then there's the restaurant itself which opens from 4pm onwards. The
dining room's built from an old railway car, with the kitchen at one
end. Framed Vargas girls took up the little spaces between the car's
large if slightly dirty windows, and the atmosphere seemed laid back.
The Three Little Piggy's
The touted sandwich costs $10.75 apiece, and we weren't the only ones
asking for it "because Bourdain had talked it up". Three of our party
ordered the Three Little Piggy's, despite the sandwich's large size.
I ordered mine with a Mad Bitch (a Belgian ale) and waited the fifteen
odd minutes it took to get to me. No lie, the meal was substantial. Big-ass
pile of large-cut fries to keep it company too,
Those french fries were wondrous --you could tell how the duck fat
they'd been cooked in set them apart, without overwhelming them in
fowl flavor.
The sandwich itself? Pignificently delicious, featuring a thick layer
of tender ham, a delicately breaded pork cutlet, bacon, cheese, onion
ring and flavorings between, with a lightly fried egg on top; all
cradled between two warm pillows of solid bready goodness.
Photos just cannot capture, but...
It was, however, mechanically tricky to eat. The egg had to be set
aside onto the plate, to be had separately, if one wanted to have any
chance of eating the sandwich like a sandwich (with just hands). The
egg very nicely complemented the flavors of the rest of the sandwich's
sinful innards and the small side of pickled onion rings, sport peppers
et. al. allowed for perfect little intermissions.
If you like pork, this is seriously some very, very VERY good shit.
I however refuse to call it America's best sandwich.
I haven't actually had anything clearly better, but I'm pretty fucking
sure that there's something else out there. There would have had to be
fairly significant DOUBT that someone could top this porky motherfucker
before I'd ever think it was the King, and that sort of doubt just was
not there.
Maybe it's because I'm spoiled for the incredible flavors of East Asia,
or my taste buds aren't American. Heck, maybe if I had somehow had
that sandwich with a proper cold, weapons-grade San Miguel pale pilsen...
Tarnished Silver
No way around it.
The service at the Silver Palm that day was just fucking mediocre.
This Chewbacca of a server wasn't very hygienic, if his smell was any
indication, and the way he flicked a wad of bills (our change) onto
our table was startlingly rude. The busboy didn't even wait for us to
clear out before he started swabbing our table-- the sweaty cocksucker
effectively blocking our egress, while his elbow came close taking my
eye out ...twice.
I'm Filipino, so I do tend to just put up with a fair bit of crap.
I'm also no stranger to street-food ruggedness, and in restaurants
I'm usually a generous tipper, like, up to 50% of the fucking bill.
Here however, I was reluctant to tip even the legal minimum.
Oh, I held my peace, and left with a very bad taste in my mouth.
Fuck me twice sideways, but that's a heck of a way to cap a food-trip.
Bourdain excels at the exegetical.
I can only cobble together catharses.
wech.
