There are two stories connected to this monstrosity of a sandwich and the name I gave it. So, let’s start off with the sandwich itself. When I was 18 I waitressed for the only true Italian restaurant in my town. It was family owned and I grew up eating pizza there so when I was looking for a job I thought, why not? Like most restaurants, being an employee gets you a free lunch or dinner. You have to understand, in those days, I was 5’2-weighed 93lbs-and was cut from working out and jogging a lot. I also could eat like a 300lb bodybuilder, a trait that followed me from childhood where even then, I was as skinny as a bean pole. So one day I was at work and super hungry. I didn’t want anything off the buffet or a plain ol sandwich, I wanted a big nasty Italian sandwich that no one had ever put together, at least not to my knowledge. With my long brown hair pulled up in a neat ponytail and wearing black jean shorts and signature red t-shirt that was required as the restaurant uniform, I made my way back into the kitchen to ask the owner’s wife if she’d make the gigantic sandwich I had envisioned. Her eyes grew, a timid smile began to appear in the corners of her mouth at the mere thought. “Two sandwiches together?” She asked curiously excited. “Yes. Please please please.” I begged. She grinned, her tiny frame stood at what seemed to be an enormous stainless steel stove compared to her little stature. I was excited. I was excited to see it, to taste it. Before long, I heard the bell ring from the expo window. I hurried to the kitchen and was taken aback by the sheer size. It was beautiful. I situated my self at an empty table and ate the entire thing. I ordered it two more times during my employment with them and have thought about it frequently ever since.
Now, as for the name, think back…way way back. Back to the 90’s, PE, high school. The day seemed normal enough. I was in the gym, sitting in a circle with my friends as were all the girls in my class, waiting for our PE teacher to decide on what we would be doing that day. We were minding our own business, talking amongst ourselves when I confessed that a guy I was friends with had asked me out the day before. One of my friends curiously asked, “What did you say?” I looked up with crooked eyebrows. “I said no.” I firmly stated. “I have a boyfriend, remember?” Although I had been dating a professional skateboarder who happened to live several hours away so I never saw him unless he was visiting his mom in town, I was still adamant about being faithful to him. My friends nodded with the “Oh.” and “Oh yeah” replies. I gazed down at the ground, sliding a dried piece of grass across the freshly waxed hardwood floor, listening to one of my friends asking why I was dating a guy that lived so far away when her numbing complaint was briskly broken by a girl from another group next to ours. For this part of the story, let’s name my friend John Doe. Obviously that is not his real name but for privacy purposes we will use that. So, one of the girls stood up, literally stood up and loudly asked, “Wait a minute….John Doe asked you out?” As we all gazed up at her with a puzzed expression smeared across our faces, actually, I think the entire class was staring. “Yes” I nodded. Her mouth fell open, as did all of her friends. They all stared at me in astonishment. “You turned down John Doe, the “Italian Stallion”!?” “The what?!” I asked. My eyes were wide with surprise and disbelief, frantically shifting back and forth between her and my friends. I could hear the solemn sound of gasps and giggles emanating from within my group. None of us knew what she was talking about. “The Italian stallion!” One of them bellowed out. I raised my brow in confusion. My gaze narrowed, my body twitched. “John Doe?” I gasped through squinty eyes and a crinkled nose. “Yes!” She blustered. Another chimed in, “Youre crazy! I can’t believe she turned down a chance to go out with John Doe.” Their complaints echoed throughout the gym,firmly bouncing off the pearl white painted brick walls. My heart seemed to skip, playing hopscotch in the cavity of my chest. My mind melted in the confines of my skull as I processed what I had just heard.Thoughts emerged of innocence broken in the worst way, hundreds of girls chasing him down the street and into class. Whatever happened to that sweet and innocent guy I knew? Their blasphemous slang had branded an image of john doing unspeakable things again and again and again. I slowly turned back to my friends, an overwhelming sense of betrayal and deceit washed over my body like a blanket. My eyes, tainted by the horror that had just ripped through my ears. As my lips slowly seperated, the faint sound of a desperate wimper bled from my tongue and stained my mouth. I’m just kidding. That is a dramatic account of how I took it, but honestly, me and my friends were literally at a loss for words. I giggled under a muffled breath. “I’ve known John for like 3 years and never heard anyone call him that.” “Neither have I.” One of my friends agreed. So, unfortunately, that kind of set the stage for the rest of our friendship from then on.There you have it. The Italian Stallion from me to you with love.
6 inch Italian loaf of bread
½ c Mayonnaise
1 good handful shredded lettuce
5 slices Roma tomato
2 slices red onion, separated
2 lg slices uncredited ham
4 slices deli pepperoni
3 slices Genoa Salami
3 slices good quality Provolone
4 homemade meatballs in Sunday gravy
“I’ll post my meatball recipe soon. For now, I have an alternative recipe on my blog or you can easily buy pre-made meatballs from the store, just make sure to add more.”
Heat your meatballs in that amazing Sunday gravy. Start assembling that bad boy by evenly spreading the mayo on both cut sides. Distribute the lettuce across the bottom layer. Continue to layer with the tomato, onion slices and ham. Next, layer with the pepperoni, salami and Provolone. Finally, top with the saucey balls and there you have it. One of my absolute favorite sandwiches.
Girl-Chef Tastes 