Reunited!

Do you think New York City is overrated? Me too.  So for this post, we're getting on the train to Jersey to show those New Yorkers back home how it's done.  No, I'm not talking Jersey shore and spray tans, I'm talking Ivy League and tweed.  Last weekend I participated in an annual ritual of the cult of Princeton, the Princeton Reunions.  Though I am not an alumnus, I do my best to make these get-togethers now, not just for the unlimited amounts of booze or the 2 million dollar fireworks display (because that is actually kind of offensive), but for what that charming, hyper-white town has to offer, two things I can't get enough of: The Princeton Record Exchange and Hoagie Haven.  While graduates return to reunite with one another and their campus, I am reuniting with these two businesses.  I'll start with the former.  

As I've stated before, NYC record stores aren't especially great, with Hospital being the exception.  But Princeton, New Jersey, has one of the best in the area.  This most likely isn't news to you, as the nearly 30 year-old store is quite famous for it's infinite stock, obscure collectibles, and knowledgeable staff (doesn't sound like the NY shops at all, does it?).  I first visited there as a guest with my friend Sharon, and have since visited once a year with an alumnus during reunions.  As always this was a delightful visit to the shop, with their 20th Century Composer section overflowing with gold.  I finally found an original pressing of John Cage's recorded performance of Variations IV, which isn't really rare, but I never had the cash on me whenever I encountered it.  There was also some cool Tristram Cary LPs and lots of noise.  My most notable find, however, was a 3 LP compilation released on Sub Rosa, a label out of Brussels, who have ambitiously attempted to catalog noteworthy but not necessarily rightfully praised innovators and contributors to last century's noise and electronic music.  This particular release, an anthology of noise & electronic music / second a-chronology volume 2, is the second installment of the label's history of deconstruction, featuring rare and/or previously unreleased material from Captain Beefheart, Luc Ferrari, Meira Asher, and many more.  The record's a lot of fun but also extremely academic, with thorough artist bios to accompany the record and elaborate track explanations from music writers or the artists themselves.  If you're some scumpunk futurist that doesn't care about the details, feel free to simply crank the record and rock out (or pass out during the drone tracks).  It's versatile that way.  Be sure to keep an eye out on more anthologies from this label as well.  I hear they even have one for the Chinese noise scene, which, I must agree with them, is pretty unheard of around these parts.

Okay, but this isn't the only reason to visit Jersey.  No sir, one must also appreciate the art of the Jersey sandwich, perfected into masterpieces at a little dive known to its die-hard, artery-clogged fans as Hoagie Haven (click the link and look at the menu, comes with a map to the hospital).  After drinking Bud Light all day at those darn Reunions tents, one requires enough savory flavor in one's meal to overpower the thick layer of beer mold resting on one's taste buds.  The Haven shall deliver... well, not really, and it's a bit of a walk out of the way, but worth it.  Now before you go categorizing these words into the pre-established schemas of your simple minds, you should know what I mean when I say hoagie.  It's not the Subway footlong.  It's not that pussy sandwich you ate at the corner deli.  No, it's more than those throwaway bite-sized snacks.  You see, at Hoagie Haven, every sandwich contains a secret ingredient: nards.  Big, hairy nards.  And you don't just eat these hoagies, you submit to them, let them teach you things.  You'll never understand until you eat one, but I'm going to at least try to explain the sandwiches' majesty to you
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Here's a picture of a wrapped hoagie on my lap.  I include my legs in this picture so that you can see the size in proportion to a 6'5 young man.  These sandwiches are 16 inches long, and despite whatever you've heard before, it is 16 inches that is the perfect size.

I had a rough schedule planned out, to where I was eating here at least once a day for 4 consecutive days.  It was tough on the body but was good for the soul.  I'll work up slowly and progressively to the most intense sandwich so that I don't scare you right away.  We begin with the heart stop, 16 inches of italian bread stuffed with cheesesteak, fried eggs, bacon, and mayonnaise, all dippied in the fryer for a finishing touch.  I had this without water and almost choked.

Next, the big cat.  This is six hamburger patties lined up on the bread, topped with bacon, eggs, and cheese.  I ordered it with the works, so it also had lettuce, tomato, and every kind of pepper you can think of.

Up next, the phat lady.  This one includes its own side on the inside, consisting of cheesesteak, cheesesticks, and french fries, all crammed into the bread, and once again, lightly fried all together.  Yum.  I always liked cheese on my sandwiches, but cheesesticks supply an additional fried texture and oily discharge that a typical deli slice can't deliver.

Lastly, and this is the most famous, most delicious of all, the Dirty Sanchez.  This is fried chicken cutlets and cheesesticks topped with Hoagie Haven's specialty sauce (some sort of mayo-based goodness).  Get it extra dirty for more sauce.  My god. If I only had videos of faces to show you.  Faces of those first-timers who think I am overreacting about a sandwich.  They change.  They transform.  They call their parents and tell them that they love them.