Tat’s Deli Seattle, WA

tats_italian_sub

If and when we dine together,

at my house or yours, or or or

any old place we can picnic and pack our bellies,

I will want to stab my fork into whatever’s sitting on your plate.

I cannot help it.

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Cannot apologize.

Can’t even pretend I have the want, the will, the ‘why-should-I’ to mind my manners.

Because I’m in love

with food and experience and dining

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in the most hedonistic way.

So we’ll likely sit and talk small and smile, and within minutes I’ll have your plate inching toward mine. My fork carefully carving into your meatloaf, swiping mashed potatoes on my way out.

Do you mind if I just…

can I-

just that little corner bite right there…

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The friends who love me most know this. They share sandwich halfs. Halfs of halfs, even. They let me double my double dip and lick their ice cream cones, thankfully.

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A few weeks ago, Karlyn, Camille, and I visited Tat’s Deli in Pioneer Square because they know one of the things I miss most from the east coast, from Boston and certainly Philly, is a solid steak and cheese sub. Shaved steak, not too lean, peppery and piled with grilled mushrooms, green peppers, and caramelized onions. Extra provolone. Toasted.

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Try as I might to find them, these subs just don’t live here in the west.

But Tat’s assured me authenticity.

And this one,

shared with friends,

alongside two other subs: a traditional cold Italian with the works and an eggplant parm,

tasted like back east.

Lightly greased and grilled steak, juicy with subtly sweet peppers, onions, and mushrooms, a fluffy roll to sop up any drippings, and a thick, silky layer of melted cheese.

Not quite the same, but close and still delicious.

Because unlike most of the fancier fare I’ve encountered out west, Tat’s was unabashedly blue collar. Sandwiches were straightforward and substantial, the kind that don’t fuss or double frou. Even the staff had a distinctive east coast sensibility. They seemed quick, direct, and though perhaps a bit colder than most Pacific Northwest folk, they came across sincere. Like my Bostonian mother.

Comments

  1. Andrea says

    Sharing is the best part of dining out! Unless, of course, you have a husband like mine that gets the same 3 dishes everywhere we go. BLTs. Bacon burgers. Ok, two maybe? Hehe.

  2. Brenda the Barefootcookingirl says

    “You stab my plate and I’ll stab yours”….I’m sure there’s a song and skit hiding in there somewhere! :)

  3. says

    Sharing food is my love language. Truly. I wish I were joking, but I’m not. One year for Christmas my sister gave me an extendable fork, so I could reach to anyones plate on the table and eat off it. Aaaah, sharing food, one of life’s true pleasures.

  4. Lauren C says

    I loved reading how you insist on sharing…and thank you for making me feel not so alone in insisting on making others share with me as well!

  5. Melissa says

    I knew we were soul sisters! I’m totally the girl reaching across the table to stab my fork onto everyones plate. I have to have just a bite of everything. My co-workers know this about me and have accepted it well. They even get offended now if I don’t try what they’re having. :)

  6. says

    Just moved home to New England after 8 years in Phoenix, AZ. I totally agree with you, the west coast missing the comfort foods I love from here. On the rare occasion that I found some fellow east coasters making my favorites it was never quite the same. Perhaps it’s the air and water that make things just that bit different.

  7. says

    I knew there was a reason I couldn’t get enough of your blog. I steal food, too! :) Actually when I go eat lunch with my friends it is strictly stipulated at the beginning of the meal that I will taste whatever they order. I even ask the waiter for extra forks to dig in with a clean one.

  8. says

    This is why we would be the best of friends in real life. Sharing food is one of my requirements of being a friend. It’s pretty much my only requirement.

    It’s no wonder, my husband and I fell in love over tapas. 😉

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