My Dinner With Genos
Well, ok, it was lunch actually, but I’m a sucker for a cheap literary reference. Anywho, as I said below I was going to drive to Philly today just to have lunch at Genos. I’m sure you’ve seen his story at Michelle Malkin’s; I did, and as soon as I read it I decided to make the trip. Over beers on Tuesday I floated the idea to Nightfly, and as he was game we met this morning and drove to Philly with his beloved and my daughter in tow.
Thanks to the directions Michelle had linked to it was very easy to find, and when we got there at 12 or so man, the place was mobbed. There was no where to park nearby so I drove around a bit and finally found a spot after we doubled back a block over. It turns out we doubled back a tad too much, because once we walking back on 9th Street we were heading the wrong way. In a moment of Sensitive 90s Guy Lucidity™ I asked a shriveled but dapper looking Italian fellow which way Geno’s was, and as he was about to answer another much younger Italian gent with (I kid you not) a bottle of Chianti in each hand said “It’s down this way…but don’t forget to speak English!” And with that he laughed and went on his way. Thusly encouraged, we continued on ours.
And there, glistening in the distance like the spires of Tangerine City, home of the Whiz, we saw…
I shall not deny that our pulse quickened as we approached, mainly because we were starving, but also in part to the buzz about the place. As I said before, it was packed; the line to the window stretched halfway down the block. Parked across the street was the official Geno’s Mobile
And then it struck me. Right in front of me was the real reason why the ‘concerned’ folks in Philly are upset with Geno’s. It really has nothing to do with the “Speak English When You Order Sign”, though I’m sure they see that as another proof of the owner’s dementia. No, my friends, the real reason Geno’s is in trouble with the City of Brotherly Love is right there on his Hummer…
The Free Mumia crowd has declared war (well, actually they haven’t come out and declared it, as that would require courage), as Officer Faulkner’s picture is everywhere you look at Geno’s,
as are window case after window case that are filled with police badges from around the country and around the world, from Anoka County, Minnesota to Australia.
Due to the wide-spread reporting on this story, Geno’s has also gotten many letters of support from around the country, and they’ve posted some of the funnier ones:
But the point of the trip, gentle reader, in addition to giving morale and financial support to a great American institution, was this:
That, my friends, is a cheesesteak with wiz, a birch beer and some cheese fries. “Cheese” in this instance being “Cheese Whiz.” And Ho Nelly was it delicious.
There are some folks who like to end their meal with a sweet treat, and there are some folks who prefer an espresso with the creamiest of heads. But for me nothing beats the vision, much like the pot o’gold that awaits every Irsihman at the end of a rainbow, the vision of the whiz at the bottom of the cup of fries
Heaven, my dear friends.
Heaven.
Swill Food and Grog | Mr. Bingley | 
June 17, 2006 3:41 pm
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Oh, man, that looks tasty. Thanks for sharing.
(Cue Homer voice:CHHEEEEEEEZZZZZZZZZZZ fries)
God, I’m starving.
We didn’t stop at Dunkin’s for breakfast, Sis, ‘cos I knew you’d get all teary-eyed if we did.
Ain’t I considerate?
That letter from Dallas is killer! ROFL!
Yeah, Guns. I remember that guy’s website being very popular; he’d do all sorts of stuff that people asked him to do.
Wasn’t his name Emotion Ed or something like that?
Right! People would email him and say “Do Happy!” and he’d post a picture.
Well worth the drive, friends: good food and great company. It seems like everyone’s taken a picture at Geno’s – they line the walls and in many places the ceiling as you wind around the point of the building and around to the windows.
Sammich at the first, drinks and fries at the second – know what you want when they ask and have your money ready. It will be fresh and fabulous and in your hot little hands inside of sixty seconds.
so what happened to the guy with the Chianti ??
guess that tells you where my head is… HA !
So, you had to mention it anyway, Bingley BASTARD ??!!!
No takeout was dropped off at my door, I am hurt and hungry.
My beef is with the entire Philly-style cheesesteak philosophy. Don’t worry about what happens to those who try to order in another language – save your pity for those who try to order a cheesesteak with the cheese on top of the meat instead of glued to the bread. Talk about your scorn and your derision.
You have a beef with a steak, Suzette?
Yes, Jeff. It really cheeses me off, too.
This is making me hungry. I’m going to have to stop there on the way to Boston.
It’s really not very far off of the interstate, Cinder.
Well worth the trip.