Still Gilly’s


Gilly’s is not hard against the Williamsburg Bridge, nor is it boasting the triumvirate pedigrees of local, sustainable and organic, yet Gilly’s quietly carries the mantle of the the 9-letter A word. Need I e-utter it? Au, au, au…aaaw, don’t make me say it. Au-cough-cough-choke-thentic.


Kit-KitKatrina and I were there recently, following a class in the outre skirts of DC, the far out hinterlands of Rock-not-a-ville. To find it, you have to follow several left-turn-on-green-arrow-onlys, seeming to circle closer and closer until ~Bingo!~ Gillys!

Why am I deluging you with hyphenated hyperbole for a near-hole-in-the-wall off yet-another Pike? Cause Gilly’s knows what they are doing sandwich-wise. Come for a mixed-six, stay for a sandwich.

They get the bread-to-filling ration just right, a rarity in my sandwich safari roamings. The bread is good, need I mention that? A sandwich can rate on second rate bread, but the players have to compensate. At Gilly’s all players carry their weight.

Lastly, while listing criteria, the interior landscape of a Gilly’s sandwich is flat. Hooray hurrah huzzah for that. No hump of meat in the middle, no condiment-free zone at the crusts. Bite for bite, each one’s equitable – bread, filling, condiment, border to border.

Gilly’s is not new, nor hip, nor screaming for an icon on the map, thank the if-there-is-a-God-he/she-must-eat-sandwiches, Lord.

Gilly's map


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