A meatball sub is one of those Let’s-See-What-We-Can-Put-On-Bread-and-Get-Away-with-It sort of sandwiches, and the category is shared by many stellar mega-meals. The Mother-in-Law sandwich, the Eggplant Parmesan sandwich, and the Spaghetti sandwich, is a trio that springs to mind fully loaded.
$5. Let’s do the math. That’s 41.66666666666¢ per inch. Even at that low, low, low, how-low-can-you-go low price, I’m not tempted. Meat may be my favorite condiment, but I was not ment to be cond. Puffy bread? No thank you. Twelve inches of puffy bread soaked soggy in sweet sauce? No thank you. To be frank, I do not want the words “foot” and “meatball” paired unless we are discussing a medical condition, in which case, let’s take that up after our meal, please.
The sub in this photo stared me down, stretching four feet across and two feet tall. OMG, and I do not mean, Oh Meatball Goodness, that thingama-bob was huge. A true thingama-robert. Hugh-gggh. With the emphasis on ugh.
Don’t get me wrong. I am not condemning meatball subs. Notatall. No no no. But I’ll take a pass on footlong. Footlong. Footlong. Footlong. The word itself is utterly weird. No thank you. Six inches will do.