It's the kind of place where your waitresses walks out the door before taking your order (a communications gap, she thought I was just there for a soda), and 10 minutes later returns hauling a watermelon.  A casual neighborhood joint in the heart of the Strip, Pittsburgh's wholesale food district.

Talking to a table of four next to me, she suggested their version of a cheesesteak - "our second best seller.  Our best seller? Beer."  They've been telling that same joke since 1933.

I went for sweet Italian sausage.  Didn't have to order sides of fries or coleslaw.  They pack them right inside the sandwich, along with the sausage.  Seems the guys working the warehouses back in '33 liked them that way, everything crammed together between the bread.  That way they could eat their sandwich with one hand and keep on working, using the other hand.