For the love of god, I don’t understand you! How can an entire city of people, three separate food based television networks and a myriad of celebrities be so very very very VERY wrong?
Your roasted pork is a thing of beauty, it deserves all of the acclaim it has earned over the years… but that is where the buck stops. How the hell did you turn Broccoli Rabe mixed with sharp provolone cheese into a condiment cultural icon? Do the people of Philadelphia truly like the gritty taste of bitter and tube socks? Or is it more like no one wants to speak up because they risk being ostracized out of town for turning against the Adam Richman vetted establishment? The question haunts me still to this day.
Maybe it’s just me. Maybe my Maryland blood did something to my taste buds to make the combination of Rabe and Prov taste like a mouthful of stagnant, overwhelming sadness. Or maybe all of the Natty Boh I’ve consumed since the age of “21” has finally tainted me, rendering my tongue a swill washed sausage of its former self. I may never know. Unfortunately, I will never agree with the masses on this one. The next time I visit Philly, I will be more than happy to pay my respects to your delicious pork, but so help me god if I see one piece of green and white on my sandwich, I will lose control like an Eagles fan after a super bowl victory.