An Ode to Pisillo
Lunchtime Thursday. The temperature was in the 20s but my hunger was in the 100s. I put my coat, hat, and gloves on and headed out my office door. As I approached the CitiBike dock I attempted to get out my phone and unlock a method of transportation. I figured that my new North Face Smart Touch gloves would allow me to easily do this, but I was wrong. After nearly getting locked out of my phone, I took my right glove off, opened the app, unlocked the bike, then put the glove back on. I mounted my blue two-wheeler and headed east.
Where was I headed on this journey? Well, the executive team got Italian sandwiches delivered from a nearby place, and I decided that I wanted to exert my authority by getting one of my own. It would’ve been a beta move to merely get a sandwich from the same place as them, so I went to Yelp! in search of a superior sub. The restaurant they ordered from is fine, but hardly merits its 4-star review. However, just outside of walking range, nuzzled on West 25th St. was a 4.5-star deli and the destination of my trip: Pisillo Italian Panini.
The store front of Pisillo lacked the flair and showiness of many New York restaurants in a way that was encouraging. The Yelpers had warned me that this was a no-frills establishment that cared about nothing but the quality of their offerings, and I was immediately inclined to believe them. Draped on the door of this small enterprise was a red and green typed Christmas list of a 4th grader who just learned to use Microsoft Word. Upon nearing the list, I discovered that it was not a child’s list, but rather the menu.
Some places like Wendy’s and McDonald’s use the tried and true tactic of making their most popular option their #1 combo. In an innovative approach, this restaurant’s namesake sandwich, the Pisillo, was listed as #26. Regardless of how far down the list it was, I knew there was no better item for my first experience. With just a few people in line in front of me (if the line was longer than 4 it would be out the door), I took a brief moment to take in the scenery. The restaurant was adorned in tributes to the motherland, Italia, and one wall was covered in newspaper articles and positive reviews about Pisillo. There was even a signed picture by a young(er) Robert de Niro where he seemingly said something nice in cursive. The cursive was illegible, though, so the restaurant wrote something along the lines of “SEE, THE GREAT ROBERT DE NIRO LOVES PISILLO” beneath the photo.
I placed my order, paid, and received my sandwich within a minute and a half. When they passed my Pisillo off to me, they shouted “Have a great day, Zach!” — a personal touch that I really appreciated. As I walked out, I saw that they spelled my name as Zack, but I wasn’t going to let that deter from my experience. Within seconds of exiting, my right arm began to tire — it was as though I was holding a kettlebell, rather than a sandwich. Nearly a foot long and weighing several pounds, I knew that my #26 would be worth the wait.
When I got my bike to ride back to the office (same problem occurred with the gloves), I realized that I had run into the common dilemma of not knowing where to put my sandwich while cycling. CitiBikes have a sort of basket in the front, so I figured it would be relatively safe there. Just to be sure, I also used the strap on the basket to keep the sandwich in place. The elasticity would squeeze and ruin the composition of your average, flimsy sandwich, but it was no match for my Pisillo. I began my journey back to the office with my prized possession in the basket of my bicycle. It looked just like a scene from ET, except instead of an alien in the basket, there was the work of an Italian immigrant.
Upon arriving, I hurried up to my desk to finally get to try my colossal sub. I was extremely loud when I unwrapped the foil to make sure that everyone, especially the executive team, saw the superior sandwich I was preparing to eat. I took my first bite, and I knew I was hooked.
While I required several layers to be warm enough to go to Pisillo, that paled in comparison to the number of layers to this exquisite sub. Between a soft loaf of fresh bread was prosciutto di parma, porchetta, bufala mozzarella, roasted peppers, arugula, and balsamic dressing. The two meats provided saltiness, the thick layer of mozzarella gave it a creamy element of fat, the peppers gave it sweetness while the arugula was bitter, and the dressing was the perfect hint of acidity to top if off. Each bite was a perfectly balanced symphony of flavor, a masterpiece of sandwich-making. It was so big that I even saved half for Friday, and was greeted with a wave of envy from my coworkers yet again. I feel that I have stumbled across one of the great Italian sandwiches in New York, and maybe the country, and I’m here to say that young Robert de Niro (as seen in the Irishman) certainly got this one right — do yourself a favor and get to Pisillo.
PS: I did this all again yesterday, and likely will again tomorrow.
