| rev:text
| - Kay had abandoned me for the evening. Dream Cream's hours caused me to indulge in dessert first since they close at 6PM. After sampling in the charitable parlor, I searched for that pizzeria near Market Square, the one on that side street, the one whose name I had forgotten...
Alas, there it stood: Fat Tommy's.
The interiors were classically modern (if that makes sense from a heterosexual man who knows nothing about interior design) with grey stone and black wood dominating the scenery. A man in a shirt and tie bellied up to the bar to watch ESPN on the flatscreen telly. A burly, gravel-throated gent who looked as if he could have been a transplant from New York City or Asbury Park said to me, "You know what you want, guy?"
The pizzas weren't available by the slice, and I wanted to try both a hoagie and a pie, but with the grinders measuring in at 9 inches and a minimum 6-cut small pizza on the board, I had to decide on just one. The Bob Hoskins imposter sized me up, trying to predict what a man like me would eat.
"You look like a hungry guy."
"Aw yeah. Worked all day."
"I hear that. So what'll it be?"
"Hmmm. Eh, gimme the Italian hoagie."
"Wit everything?"
"Hell yeah!"
"MY man! You got it. Hold tight, ok?"
Within ten minutes, a typical open-faced sub was placed before me in the usual manner; in a plastic basket lined with bakery tissue. What was atypical about it was the abundance of meat and cheese. The grassy lettuce, tomato, and onion were minimal. The slabs of deli proteins dripped with juice as the cheese formed strands with every chomp and pull. Making the already exceptional zep legendary was a bold dressing that crashed cymbals like the late John Bonham with its tangy notes. Furthermore, the bread was flaky, chewy, cookbook perfect and might as well have been a baguette and a Portuguese roll merged together. The hoagie proved so astonishingly edible, I lost track of its length, and after I dispatched it, I came close to ordering another.
"See, you did ok," the sandwich-maker said flipping through bills as if he'd won a bet.
"DAMN, that was the best Italian hoagie I've eaten in a good while," I exclaimed.
"Hey, what can I say? We do 'em best," he replied self-assuredly.
Toast a Triangle Bar Battleship (it's been SO long...) and you may, MAY approximate what Fat Tommy's is selling, this pizza parlor offering up a sleeper of a hero that easily defeats many of its miserly competitors. Now to tackle that pizza someday.
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