Ever since I first discovered the Philly Taco – a cheesesteak wrapped in pizza – in an article about “The Great Philly Cheesesteak Book,” I knew I had to have one. I’ve never been one to shy away from a challenge, especially those of the gastronomical variety, and the idea of combining two of street food’s greatest hits had me positively giddy with excitement. I was pumped, amped, jacked and stoked. For weeks, I dreamed of them, and I knew I had to make it happen.

But there was one problem. Philly Tacos (obviously) live in Philadelphia. I do not.

Not pictured: Philadelphia.

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The Sandwich Party has become a semi-regular occurrence at my place. Last week, we invented the Mr. Manager, a sandwich cobbled together from the cheapest of the cheap foods at Kroger. Microwaveable bacon, barbecue and fried chicken came back from the brink of expiry to join forces with cheese and a fried egg on leftover sesame-seed buns. Then there was a lot of beer, “Da Ali G Show” and a late-night trip to IHOP.

The same crew was eager to repeat last week’s success, but I wasn’t willing to let the whims of a grocery store manager dictate our sandwich experience this time. I wanted something from the major leagues of American sandwich artistry. And when I’m looking for such a high-caliber meal, I turn to the great documentary “Sandwiches That You Will Like.”

Last night, I settled on the St. Paul, an egg foo young patty on white bread. It’s a sandwich shrouded in mystery: it comes from St. Louis, a ten-hour drive north of the city that is its namesake, and the identity of its inventor is matter of myth and (boring) legend. Undeterred, I printed out this recipe for an idea of the ingredients and made a run on the local grocery. Read the rest of this entry »