Bringing the Outdoors Inside

Cabela's
100 Cabela's Dr.
Hamburg, PA 19526
(and in a few other places across the fruited plain)




As a suit that goes to strange places, I seldom get to indulge in the pleasures of the great outdoors. Miraculously, this time I had the chance to eat food that "supposedly" wasn't farm raised and was significantly more interesting than bland beef or rubber chicken with too much salt.

Even though Suit 777 is a true lover of all animals served on a plate with a side of a different animal, garnished with another of God's creatures in its proper place, sometimes cow, pig and chicken, just get boring after a while.

Cabela's proclaims that they are the "World's most foremost outfitter". I agree, but think they should also claim the title of "worst enemy of PETA and Purveyor of the Means to put fury creatures on our plates!"

Many a fury thing has met its demise because a red blooded American male with a 30-06 or a .300 Winchester magnum has spied it in his scope. And thank goodness, because if we weren't placing the Lord's fuzzy critters on our plates, I'm pretty sure the world would have ended; probably swamped with squirrels and bunnies like Captain Kirk was in The Trouble with Tribbles.

Moving on to the reason for my side trip to male nirvana! They serve GAME at their in store restaurant! Now that is a completely American slice of righteousness!

Standing in the short line at the Cabela's in-store cafe` is almost as fun as standing at the firearms counter xperimenting with the newest in technology designed to place one of God's furry creatures on my plate!

Reading the menu in my Brooks Bros. suit didn't bother me one bit. I'm a Suit in Strange Places and being able to order the pulled warthog sandwich instead of the typical pulled pork or a not quite yet classic elk burger is definitely a great moment!

Being as ravenous as a bobcat that has just woken up from a long winter's hibernation, I decided the elk burger was definitely the way to go...

...but my hopes were slightly dashed when I learned I wasn't getting a whole elk.  But a 1/3 lb burger is almost good enough when you add the fries, Mtn. Dew and peanut butter cheesecake.

Being a nice and social guy, I questioned the cook where they got the elk for the burger... when I learned it was farm raised elk and not actual game, I became the proverbial bear... well only on the inside.

Oh well, we can't win them all in the culinary-oddity world.

The burger with all the classic American toppings (lettuce, ketchup, pickles, onions, mustard and mayo) was absolutely choice! Loved it! Apparently, the butcher knew how to cut the elk up without damaging any glands and it completely avoided the gamey taste a lot of meats get.

The fries were merely your typical fries but they still complimented the dead 2200 lb animal on my plate very well!

I definitely recommend getting your burger with a Mtn. Dew. There is just something about the crisp flavor of the radio active green beverage that just says... "I was made to be drunk with a burger and fries!"

Finally, the cheesecake! Oh My GOODNESS! It was so rich and heavy I had to take it home with me. I couldn't finish it in the store.  It was fantastic!

Well I could say I bought the t-shirt just for this trip, but I've already bought several other items of clothing and equipment from this fine outfitter!

I retired from this event knowing that I had done my part in keeping furry creatures from taking over the world! 

Rating: Bought the Shirt! (or in this case the flannel shirt)

The Evolution of the Philly Cheesesteak

Mama’s Pizzeria
426 Belmont Ave.
Bala Cynwyd, PA


Going to the original source can be fun.

If you find yourself stuck in Buffalo, by all means, stop by the Anchor Bar, where the Buffalo wing was invented.

If you are cruising through the French Quarter, grab an original Muffuletta at the Central Grocery.

And when in the City of Brotherly Love, a stop by the corner of East Passyunk and 9th where the Philly Cheesesteak was first created is an obligatory stop on any tourist’s itinerary.

But you know what? Sometimes being first does not mean being best.

Cheap sinewy beef tossed on a hard chewy roll slathered in Cheese Wiz. That’s what they’ve been serving at Pat’s and Geno’s in South Philly since 1933.

Come on, man. You can do better than that.

But you are going to have to venture out to the Philly suburbs to a place called Mama’s Pizzeria to get it.

A modest Italian pizzeria deep in the heart of Philadelphia’s suburban hell might seem like a strange place to find a perfected version of the Philly Cheesesteak.

But not necessarily, if you think about.

After all, it was Italian immigrants to Eastern Pennsylvania who invented the Philly Cheesesteak in the first place.

It makes some sense that it takes an Italian pizza chef to perfect it.

And perfect it, Paul Castellucci did here at this little joint on Belmont Avenue.

Castellucci’s Philly has been voted best Cheesesteak in Philadelphia.

That’s like being named the drunkest guy at a NASCAR race. Pretty stiff competition.

Uncharacteristically, I ordered the “mini” version because I planned on eating again later that night.

Good call. The “mini” Philly Cheesesteak at Mama’s was stuffed with enough protein to tide me over for at least twelve hours.

It truly was a thing of beauty.

Tender and succulent, the beef just melted in my mouth. But it was the blend of gourmet cheese and caramelized grilled onions that melded right into the beef that elevated this sandwich to shirt-buying proportions.

Meat and cheese – not separate entities – but joined together as one in holy matrimony.

Each bite yielded an exquisite cheesy, beefy comingling of luxurious flavor.

The fresh baked Italian bread softened the squooshy goodness even further.

The ambiance of Mama’s cozy upstairs dining room compliments the texture of its world class sandwiches.

Soft pink, floral artwork and flowery vinyl table coverings lead customers to feel they are dining in an old fashioned Italian grandmother’s dining room.

Out of style? For sure.

But comforting as steamy tender beef and melted cheese.

This is about as far removed from the classic South Philly experience you can get.

At Pat’s and Geno’s, some mob-looking guy barks “Wit or witout?” As you eat your Cheesesteak standing up on a crowded sidewalk under the harsh glare of buzzing florescent lights.

Here, the family next to me bows their head in prayer just before sinking their teeth into the soft goodness of Philly’s most gourmet Cheesesteaks while your grandmother’s favorite elevator music plays in the background.

Civilized. Soft. Comforting.

It’s good to see that even the most blue collar of culinary inventions can evolve. Even the Philly Cheesesteak.

Rating: Bought the Shirt!

Philly’s the Place to Get Showered with Brotherly Love -- and F Bombs

Citizens Bank Park
1 Citizens Bank Way
Philadelphia, PA



Phillies fans don’t deserve Citizens Bank Park.

If they had any self respect, they’d insist on playing in some rat infested relic of a park in the shadow of the Navy Yard to better reflect their blue collar sensibilities.

Not here. Not in a gleaming, fan-friendly facility built for comfort like Citizens Bank Park.

I mean, these are the fans who just days earlier heckled Washington Nationals outfielder Jason Werth at his home ballpark while he was being helped off the field with a broken wrist.

“You deserve it!”

Classy.

Of course these are the same fans who infamously booed Santa Claus and pelted him with snowballs at an Eagles game in 1968.

Welcome to “The City of Brotherly Love”.

But don’t worry about Suit757. I can take it.

In fact, I found Phillies fans to be quite entertaining. Between the chain smoking Jersey girls in tight jeans loitering outside the park and the creative heckling of the opposing bullpen pitcher, I learned a whole bunch of new innovative uses for the “F” word.

What else do you want on a Tuesday night?

As it turns out you get a lot more than just that infamous Philly charm at Citizens Bank Park.

The seats are nice, the isles wide and the concourses clean. Even in the nose bleed seats in Center Field where I sat thanks to a ten dollar bill and the entrepreneurial spirit of a scalper.

Like most of the modern nouveau ballparks, this one prides itself on the local flavor of its concessions.

Out beyond Center Field, you’ll find “Ashburn Alley” named after the Phillies Hall of Fame center fielder and broadcaster.

This is where the twenty and third year olds congregate. And where all the outposts of Philadelphia’s famous culinary institutions can be found.

The longest line was for Chickie’s and Pete’s, stretching all the way to Left Field. I mean, their famous “crab fries” are okay, but not worth missing half the game -- for some crinkle fries sprinkled with Old Bay.

Been there, done that and didn’t buy the shirt at the New Jersey location.

The second longest line belonged to Tony Luke’s, another Philadelphia institution I’ve patronized in original form.

I still dream of their roast pork, spinach rabe and hot dog fries when I go to sleep at night in my Tony Luke’s shirt.

The only problem with this new trend toward world famous shirt-buying worthy concessions at ball parks is that nagging concern in the back of my mind: can a staff of frazzled ballpark employees really duplicate the real thing for the sports-watching masses?

Well, sometimes yes. And sometimes no.

That’s a heck of a gamble to take considering you’ll be paying about double the already inflated prices for standard ballpark fare.

The most tempting concession was Bull’s BBQ, where the smoke of sizzling kielbasa wafts appetizingly into Center Field. I almost pulled the trigger and gave my hard earned dough to Phillies slugger-turned-pit-master Greg “The Bull” Luzinski.

But then I came to my senses. I’m in Philadelphia. How can I get any thing but the city’s namesake sandwich?

So I opted to try the Philly cheesesteak from Campo’s, an “Old City” Philly institution for six decades.

Is it as good as the original?

I have no idea. The reason I picked it was because I had never tried Campo’s before. Something new and different!

And the line was short.

Maybe not a good sign.

The problem with judging “authentic” Philly Cheesesteaks is that the original concept wasn’t that great to begin with.

Cheap, low quality beef and cheap, low quality cheese on an Italian roll.

Now you can find significantly upgraded Philly cheesesteak sandwiches with tender seasoned beef, sautéed onions, peppers and assorted fancy sauces.

Almost every corner sports bar in America has figured out a way to improve upon the concept.

But just as you savor your first bite of one of those upgraded cheesesteaks, some drunk guy in a Chase Utley jersey will start dropping F bombs on you for not staying “authentic.”

For better or worse, my Campo’s Philly cheesesteak was “authentic”.

Even with all the peppers, onions and mushrooms I paid an extra buck and a half for, the meat could have used more seasoning. The cheese was hard to discern.

I know some Philly fanatic will want to snap my wrist for saying it, but I’ve had better at Hooters.

The greatest challenge was finding a place to eat it among the crowd of 43,000. I had no interest in hauling my meal back up into the upper atmosphere of my assigned 300 level seat.

I just needed some standing room with a small ledge where a man and his cheesesteak could be alone for a few moments.

So I opted for the “Budweiser Rooftop” behind Ashburn Alley.

I guess the folks at Citizens Bank Park were trying to recreate the “rooftop” vibe at Wrigley, only within the confines of their own park.

Except this version isn’t as much fun.

Or as close to the action.

Even “The Bull” couldn’t dream about hitting a home run this far.

If it sounds like I’m complaining about the Phillies ballpark, don’t get me wrong. It’s a great place to see a game.

Best of all is the beer selection.

Top notch microbrews can be found at virtually every concession stand. And for the same price as a similar sized Budweiser!

At $7.75 a pop, beers are no bargain, but at least you feel like you are getting something good in return for all the cash you hand over every time you get thirsty.

As it turned out, I got thirsty three times.

That thirst was quenched by a Sierra Nevada Pale Ale and two different flavors from Pennsylvania’s own microbrewery, Victory Brewing Company.

My Victory Hop Devil lived up to its name, overflowing in floral hop aroma and flavor.

I expected the Victory Prima Pils to be a major step down.

It wasn’t. At all.

Virtually just as hoppy as the Hop Devil, but with a lighter, more effervescing pilsner feel, the Prima Pils was one of the best “light” colored beers I’ve ever had.

Remember when a day at the ball park meant consuming massive quantities of overpriced mass-produced light beer?

Citizens Bank Park proves that those dark days are over. At least for the discerning few with good taste.

While I was having a great time drinking good beer and watching baseball, I can’t say the same for my 43,000 colleagues.

Despite running up a four run lead, the Phillies blew it in the Seventh Inning on a throwing error by Pete Orr and bad pitching by Chad Qualls. The hated Mets stormed back with seven unanswered runs to send the Phillies to three games under .500.

F bombs rained down from the 300 level – along with empty Bud Light cans.

Like youth, both good beer selection and nice ballparks are wasted on all the wrong people.

Rating: Seriously Thought About Buying Shirt.

Dinor-mite

The Lawrence Park Dinor
4019 Main Street
Erie, PA

Hours: 7 AM-3 PM
Alcohol: None
Food: Limited menu and smaller portions than a chain, but cheap and very good

The nice part of globalization is that the best things from different parts of the country can now be found all over the place.

I remember when I walked into a Wal-Mart in Harper's Ferry, WV in 2002 while I was on the Appalachian Trail, and I was shocked to see they were selling giant blocks of Cabot Hunter's Cheddar Cheese.

Similarly, Wal-Mart now sells Blue Bunny ice cream, which until recently, was an Iowa thing. And there's now a Five Guys in Manchester, NH, whereas even ten years ago, it was strictly a DC thing.

But unfortunately, for every great regional product that Wal-Mart takes national or local chain that goes national through franchising, there are probably ten regional products that get crowded out.

When I drove into Erie, PA last night, my mom told me to go to a dinor (that's how they spell it in Erie) while I was there.

This morning, I set out from my hotel to go to the local Peninsula Dinor for breakfast, but unfortunately it had succumbed to the pressures of competing with the nearby Perkins and Eat 'N Park.

So after my morning meetings, I trekked over to the Lawrence Park Dinor on the other side of town, which is even listed on the National Register of Historic Places.

The dinor recently changed hands, but it was purchased by lifelong Erie resident who, as far as I could tell, wanted to keep a local institution going, and who was working the grill when I walked in -- always a good sign. When I walked in

Like the rest of Erie, the place looked like it had weathered the Rust Belt's downturn better than most places, unlike, say, Cleveland.

Like a lot of things in Pennsylvania, it was out of the past. This is no New Jersey super-diner with giant portions and a ten page menu.

Rather, the menu just a small tri-folded laminated sheet with breakfast on the left (served 'til 11) and lunch in the middle and on the right. And the portion sizes are from back when a quarter-pound burger was what you ordered when you were hungry, with prices to match.

I asked what a Greek hot dog is, and was told that it had mustard, onions and "Greek Sauce," which is a slightly spicy meat sauce (or beanless chili), similar to what is served on Zwiegle's white hots in Rochester, NY. And it was only twenty cents more than a regular hot dog, so that's what I ordered, along with a glass of chocolate milk and a bowl of chili.

The chili was more soupy than I usually like, but it came with crackers, and it was very tasty. Not super-spicy, but you definitely know you're having chili.

Then there was the hot dog. They serve Smith's hot dogs, Erie's answer to Zwiegle's or Hofmann's from Rochester and Syracuse, NY. It was a nice, big hot dog that the Greek Sauce made even better. Definitely worth the $2.20 I paid for it and the two pickle chips that came with it.

It was the tail end of the lunch rush, and service was a little on the slow side. After finishing my meal, I waited a solid ten minutes before one of the waitresses came over with my check, only to have me say, "actually, I was thinking of dessert."

The piece of French Silk pie I ordered was on the small side, like everything else, but it was quite good, especially the crust.

After finishing, I sat and did the devotional reading that I'd not gotten in earlier because of my fruitless trip to the Peninsula Dinor and the attendant hunting around. The place cleared out, and the owner struck up a conversation with me. I asked for the check, and was surprised to see that a drink, soup, the Greek hot dog and a piece of pie had only cost $10 (plus tip).

Obviously, in a way, this place isn't too different from places you'll find in most old industrial towns -- reasonably cheap breakfast and lunch joints that serve tasty but unpretentious food to the locals -- but I definitely think the Lawrence Park Dinor gives a nice Erie flavor to the whole thing.

After lunch, I went down on the public dock, where my dad used to go fishing when his father worked in Erie for General Electric, and then I ambled around the neighborhood he used to live in. Erie's still mostly keeping up OK, just like the dinor.

Rating: Seriously Thought About Buying the Shirt

Would You Like Hot Dog Fries With That?

Tony Luke’s
39 East Oregon Ave.
Philadelphia, PA
Visited July 20, 2010

Beer selection: None, except for the Tony Luke’s Sports Bar across the street

Food: Classic South Philly sandwiches

Generally, as I travel the back roads of America, I’m a “When in Rome” kind of diner.

Where else are you going to get better brisket than at smoke stained shack in Lockhart, Texas? Or better steaks than Johnny’s in Omaha? Or a better hot brown than the Brown Hotel in Louisville?

So when in Philadelphia, you want to go where the Philly cheese steak was invented, right?

Well, not exactly.

The good old Philly cheese steak is one of those rare examples of culinary specialty that has evolved into something better since the day is was invented.

I mean, let’s be honest, does a poor cut of chopped up beef smothered in Cheese Wiz really sound that great to you? Trust me, your local neighborhood sport bar serves up a much more appetizing specimen.

Well, you can still get the original, unevolved, ungilded version at the very spot in was invented at the corner of East Passyunk and 9th in South Philly at Pat’s. Or at Geno’s. Or at John’s.

And don’t get me wrong – I recommend everybody try it at one of those old standbys at least once, just to say you did it.

But I’ve been there, done that and used the T-Shirt to clean my grill.

When I come to Philadelphia and want the best sandwich in the city, I go to Tony Luke’s.

For one thing, it’s a hell of a lot easier to get to than those other three aforementioned institutions.

Tony Luke’s is located along a South Philly sidewalk literally underneath I-95, just a few miles from the sports complex and the airport.

So, if you are like me, in a hurry to get to the airport in order to stand in line for an hour to show your papers and have some federal bureaucrat conduct a full body cavity search on you in exchange for granting you the privilege to travel to another point in your own country, you fill up your stomach at a convenient, delicious place like Tony Luke’s.

The Philly cheese steak at Tony Luke’s is great. The veal cutlet sandwich is also excellent.

But it’s their Italian Roast Pork that puts Tony Luke’s on the map of legendary American sidewalk cuisine. It just may be one of the top 10 sandwiches in all of America.

Slow roasted, marinated, paper-thin sliced pork is piled on a long Italian sub roll. On top are thin slices of provolone. Underneath is a delicious layer of broccoli rabe.

Broccoli what?

Broccoli rabe. And yes, I used the word delicious and broccoli in the same sentence.

This isn’t the nasty microwave-steamed frozen broccoli your mother made you eat when you were a kid.

It doesn’t even look like broccoli. And it sure doesn’t taste like broccoli – at least not the kind my mother ever forced me to eat.

It’s a marinated, garlicky, spicy, green spread that perfectly compliments the slow roasted pork. In fact, it just might be one of the greatest sandwich condiments ever invented.

By the way, you can also get it with spinach rabe, which is almost as delicious.

Biting into a Tony Luke’s Roast Pork Italian Sandwich is an explosion of flavor -- a perfect blend of pork, cheese, bread, garlic and spice. You’ll never order another “wit Wiz” again.

But since this was the only meal I was going to eat today (airline peanuts don’t count as sustenance), I needed something else.

As I stood on the sidewalk waiting to place my order, I saw it. A little spot on the menu board advertising what has to be the pinnacle of junk food inventions.

Hot dog fries.

Yeah. It’s exactly what you think it is.

Thinly sliced up hot dogs breaded and deep fried. They look like ordinary fries from a distance. But one bite and you know these things beat the heck out of boring potatoes!

First of all, I’m a firm believer in the doctrine of frying, which states that ALL things taste even better when deep fried. Since the hot dog is already one of man’s greatest inventions (up there with beer, NASCAR and halter-tops), how much better could it get in the form of hot dog fries?

I’m here to testify – pretty darn good.

Who knew deep fried hot dog fries, broccoli and pork blended so perfectly? When in South Philly, they do.

Rating: Bought the Shirt