| rev:text
| - There's an E 'n P in swanky Sewickley, imagine that. Being all out of ideas and having no time to research virgin restaurant territory for Yelperial jihad, I decided upon this satellite of the venerable chain, one we've zipped by a zillion times without battin' an eye.
Geez, I walked in, and the decor was so trendy looking, I thought I'd be asked to put on a jacket! A high rent Eat 'N Park in a high rent neighborhood, I'm shocked it wasn't gated!
What to order, what to order? Hmmm...I know...
Grilled Chicken Quesadillas!
Aw man, why do they tell you they used jarred salsa? I suppose I should applaud their honesty. Aside from that, the chicken was chargrilled without being at all dry, the chipolte sauce was milky and mildly kickin', the flour tortilla was sturdy yet pliable, and the Pepper Jack cheese was...pepper jack cheese (has there ever been a bad pepper jack?). I've actually had these before at a different E 'N P and enjoyed them back then too.
Consider the Philly Cheese Steak. It's supposed to be "street" y'know? It's supposed to drip. It's supposed to be served by a jerk having a ten-year-long bad day. It's supposed to have Cheez Whiz or bechamel or fondue all over it or whatever.
I don't care. This blew apart my expectations, something I chose randomly no doubt because I was dead set again't getting a burger.
How to say this without sounding like the Child Eater from Pan's Labyrinth?
The roll is was served on felt like a baby. I know I said something similar about Calabria's calzones, but man alive, this sandwich was a joy to hold as well as...ulp...eat?
The steak was choice, the onions were like candy, and the neatly melted American cheese cut in beautifully. Nothing tasted frozen, gummy, reheated. Everything stayed put. No mess, just a damn good sandwich, just the kind I needed to finish my workweek. If I were a drinkin' man, I'd want a pint 'o piss to go along with it. Instead I got fries and a Pepsi.
I hadn't had grilled stickies in eons, so that's what was for dessert. Who thought to serve these with ice cream, and why haven't they been given a prize of some sort. Why nuke a cinnamon roll when you can butter 'em and put them on a griddle? A microwave cannot create those saltysweetcrispy edges that you forget exist on the things until your nearly finished with them, making your mouth joyous and your heart sad that dessert is close to being over.
Now we gotta go to the E 'N P in Bellevue! It comes before this one when traveling to boom Chippa wah wah. Ask Kay what that's all about.
|
![[RDF Data]](/fct/images/sw-rdf-blue.png)
![[cxml]](/fct/images/cxml_doc.png)
![[csv]](/fct/images/csv_doc.png)
![[text]](/fct/images/ntriples_doc.png)
![[turtle]](/fct/images/n3turtle_doc.png)
![[ld+json]](/fct/images/jsonld_doc.png)
![[rdf+json]](/fct/images/json_doc.png)
![[rdf+xml]](/fct/images/xml_doc.png)
![[atom+xml]](/fct/images/atom_doc.png)
![[html]](/fct/images/html_doc.png)