Dined Out: This Little Piggy Had Roast Beef

This Little Piggy Had Roast Beef, a new roast beef place from the folks behind the popular Artichoke’s pizza operation, opened recently at 1st Avenue and 9th Street, which sharp-eyed readers will recognize as being remarkably convenient to the Awl offices. As a service to those of you who like roast beef, and because we were both really hungry, we grabbed a couple of sandwiches for lunch today. Our tasting notes follow.

Choire: Thanks for bringing me that 14 inch long pile of meat and bread!
Choire: Now I can’t work.
BALK: My fingers are much more mottled than usual as well.
BALK: But HOW WAS YOUR BEEF?
Choire: I would describe it as “delicious”? It was covered in JUS and a decent, if slightly stringy, mozzarella.
BALK: I went for the cheese whiz, just so we might offer the broadest possible amount of coverage to our audience. I found it to be excellent. Juicy, the bread softening as you ate it but not to be point that it completely collapsed, the meat not fatty, etc.
Choire: I admire their support of the traditional Cheez Whiz Cheese Product, though of course I will never bring myself to put it inside me.
BALK: That sounds similar to something she said, etc. It was just fine! I mean, it’s not a cheese steak, since it is roast beef, but the whiz worked fine for what it was. Now, I know your particular food issues, in that you won’t just eat any old crap even out of necessity, so lemme ask you: Does this pass the Choire Sicha purity test?
Choire: There’s no way to say this without sounding like a B-rate gay version of Julie Klausner, but basically, I tried not to think about the provenance of the meat when I put it in my mouth.
Choire: I don’t care where that meat came from!
Choire: It was tasty!
Choire: It is probably hooves and whatnots?
Choire: But I finished that thing off.
Choire: (God. I know)
BALK: I saw it resting in the tray when I went to pick it up, it looked like an actual roast beef.
BALK: But.
BALK: We need to discuss the salt issue.
Choire: Jesus Christ.
BALK: I am a GIGANTIC proponent of salt.
BALK: I salt my bacon, and then I salt the salt on the bacon.
BALK: One of my biggest sexual fantasies is to perform cunnilingus on Lot’s wife.
BALK: I am a man who LIKES HIS SALT. And I’ve got to say?
BALK: That roast beef was SALTY. Like, if I’m ever going to have that heart attack I’ve been working up to, it’s gonna be today.
Choire: Yes. I actually don’t… I don’t feel right?
BALK: Are you getting the tingling thing down the arm?
Choire: No! Though I did have that the other night? I mean, I feel bad, not in the way, like, OMG BAD MEAT? But like, “Oh I have a cup of salt inside me that I cannot dilute even with this 33.8 ounce container of seltzer!”
Choire: The sneaky thing is: we didn’t realize this WHILE we were eating!
Choire: Which is what makes the sandwich magical.
BALK: I know, it just tasted great!
BALK: And then… jdkvngekjrgvbsvbjjvk.
BALK: So I guess we should tell the roast beef fans of New York that they will enjoy this sandwich, but they should call their cardiologist in advance?
Choire: Jesus. Also, why was mine, on the hero, so goddamned immense, while yours, on the roll, rather petite???
BALK: I think they took a look at me and decided I didn’t need it?
BALK: No, actually I guess the “this way” (whiz) comes on a roll while the fancy-pants “that way” (fresh mozz) comes on a hero.
BALK: (They also offer pastrami, but God knows how many mounds of sodium that contains.)
Choire: Wikipedia doesn’t have an article on salt poisoning, so I’ll never know if I’m potentially a victim. But I think we do agree: WE ENDORSE THIS SANDWICH. (Do not take internally more often than once a week.)
BALK: I agree.
BALK: And.
BALK: [Dies]