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| - Stop what you're doing and drive to this pleasant little suburb right this instant. The sandwich you will buy from this establishment will be worth it!
First of all, a brief history lesson is in order. (I say "brief" because I am too lazy to say "extensive.") In the 1990's there began the Great Togo's Debate. Though the chain of franchises had been around since the 1970's, an early-90's expansion had brought it to within walking distance of every surfer in California. And because Californians like to write their own rules of all things including the Queen's English, there emerged two camps of people: those who referred to Togo's as "To Go's" (as in "take-out"), and those who referred to Togo's as "toe-go's" (as in "what those appendages at the top of your feet do when you walk"). I kid you not, people came to blows over this Great Togo's Debate. Blood was shed, drinks were spilled, sandals were thrown...it was chaos.
Today I can say with full authority, and without flying sandals, that the correct pronunciation of this establishment is "toe-go's." Let this henceforth be spread throughout the land!
Togo's did once have a small foothold in the East Valley. Rumors of a store in Tempe flourished, and I can confirm one did exist on Ray Rd in Chandler at one point. But they disappeared in time. And for the life of me, I cannot understand why. The sandwiches here are absolutely top-notch, and leave you wanting for nothing.
I caught wind that this Togo's was about to open, and showed up the day after it did so. The space inside is fairly cavernous. One television displayed sports, the other displayed the news with closed-captioning. Above that came the dull roar of Nirvana's "Smells Like Teen Spirit" through the shop's speakers. There was good 90's music throughout my time there. It was loud enough to mask the sound of your chomping and drooling and cooing over your meal, but not loud enough to drown out the incessant gossipmongering of the teenage girls at the table next to you.
The music is part of the joy of being here. When I wore a younger man's mustache I frequented a Togo's that cranked up the radio on "Disco Saturday Night." At one point they even had table dancing, although I cannot swear that was entirely condoned by the management.
Speaking of tables, no table at this joint seats more than four people. This is bad news if you're bringing the whole church choir (as I know you good little Yelpers tend to do) with you for Sunday Brunch. The tables can be moved together, but that sort of ruins the whole Feng Shui of the place, doesn't it?
You order your chow at a tall counter staffed by friendly folks. On all three of my visits, the staff has been excellent. They'll greet you at the door, walk you through the menu if you are uninitiated, and hold off from yelling "Heretic!" at you when you ask for a little extra this or that. In short, they understand that the customer has individual tastes and are not offended when you mess with their masterpiece.
And each sandwich really is a masterpiece. There is no skimping on meats or veggies. The bread is not made on-site but is trucked in from a specialty baker every morning. I know, I know, we've all been spoon-fed the Subway nonsense about how "fresh baked is better" for years and years, but I've never found that to be borne out in taste. Try this Togo's bread and tell me if you think it's better. I certainly do.
The listed menu is only a small portion of what they offer. In a fashion somewhat similar to In-n-Out Burger's "Stealth Menu," there is more here than meets the eye. You order sandwiches by number, and there are officially around 30 sandwiches that can be ordered that way, even if only about seven of them are prominently displayed.
And here's how you can play the time-honored game of "Spot the Exiled Californian." Did the lady next to you with the fake Coach purse just order a Number 27? Congratulations! She is a Californian-in-Exile! Did the man in the Hawaiian shirt in front of you call the clerk "bro" and ask for the Number Twelve? Yessiree, you've spotted yourself a genuine Californian-in-Exile! You see, there used to exist a paper menu that displayed every single available numbered sandwich. And folks who picked their favorite one have never forgotten.
And neither have I. For years I ordered the "Hot 8" (which coincidentally was my nickname in high school), and I would urge you to order the same. I absolutely believe you'll thank me for this at some point.
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