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| - There's just something in a restaurant's name that will lure me for a visit. Like Al's Beef. Those words together conjure up fantastical images of hunky blue collared workers. You know the ones; they work hard and play harder, each one starving, looking to get his fill of Al's thick juicy Italian Beef sandwiches.
In 1938, Al's Beef opened as a food stand in Chicago's Little Italy. The idea for the Italian Beef sandwich came during the Depression when meat was scarce. So, in order to help stretch the meat to feed more people, the roasted beef was shaved extremely thin, then made into sandwiches.
Over the years, Al's flourished, earning accolades such as Best Sandwich in America from Esquire, Playboy and others. They were even featured earlier this year on one of my favorite TV shows, Man vs. Food, in an episode titled "Da Italian Stance."
In Chicago, there's an art to eating an Al's Italian Beef sandwich. In the "Italian Stance," the diner's knees are slightly bent, posterior slightly up and out and elbows on the counter. This technique helps to avoid getting Al's gravy on your shoes. It's not the traditional gravy you might think of putting on mashed potatoes, but more like the pan drippings from the roasted beef they dunk the entire sandwich in, bread and all.
Unfortunately, all of this amazing history and media attention doesn't seem to matter to the new franchised location in North Scottsdale. The concept here is fast casual, order from the counter, then getting your number called a few minutes later to pick up your food.
The interior was spotlessly clean, the staff relatively friendly and the concept easy, what's not to like? Unfortunately, the food.
I started with the Big Al ($7.45), the 8-inch version of their Italian Beef sandwiches. I want to eat it like Chicagoans do, so I ordered the sandwich dipped, then covered with hot giardiniera, a relish of pickled peppers and vegetables. Taking my position, with my butt in the air and my elbows on the counter top, I took the first bite. First I was amazed just how juicy the sandwich was. Then another surprise hit me -- the meat was almost flavorless.
I was so disappointed that after a few bites I decided to try a Chicago Dog ($3.10). But the hot dog was so small and shriveled I wasn't sure you could call it a hot dog; more like a hot mess.
There were a few highlights, including the delicious Bleu Cheese Fries ($4.50), perfectly cooked French fries covered with bleu cheese crumbles and dressing. Another treat was the Tamale Boat ($5.80), two Chicago-style tamales covered with chili, cheddar cheese and onions.
When one of the employees decided that it was time for Headbangers Ball, playing thrash metal over the restaurant's loudspeakers, I took it as my cue to leave.
Maybe this place should be renamed Al's French Fried Tamale Mosh Pit? Rock on man, rock on.
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