PicoBlog

Good morning and Happy Thanksgiving, dear readers. Since Thanksgiving is a violent colonizer’s holiday, I don’t have much of anything nice to say about it. But I do have some other news to share.

The time has come. After three years of toiling in obscurity, this Jersey Boy has decided to pack his bags and move to Los Angeles. It was not an easy to decision to make. But the fact is, if you’re not working in Tech, it’s really hard to find a decent job in the Bay Area. Oakland is a challenging place to live, and there are certain things I truly won’t miss. Like car theft for instance.

Can we talk about the fact that almost everyone living in Oakland has either experienced it directly or is close to someone who has?

The day after halloween, my partner’s adorable Kia Sportage was stolen. Lucky for us, this car looks ridiculous. It’s a 2-door convertible SUV with huge wheels and glittery silver stripes. So we knew the thieving bastards wouldn’t be able to hide for long. Knowing several people who’ve been through this scenario, we also knew exactly what to do: go on a mad race to all of the sketchiest places in town looking for it. And in less than two days, we successfully recovered the car, minus the wheels, radio and catalytic converter.

We found her somewhat ravaged along Independent Road in East Oakland. As the tow truck dragged her shamelessly up the ramp on bare rims, I shit you not another stolen car pulled violently to a stop in the very same parking spot vacated by the Kia. The driver crashed it into a barrier and promptly ran off.

“Are you seeing this?” I asked the cop standing to my left.

“Oh yeah, we’re here every day,” he responded with a shrug.

As we watched the car thief disappear into a hovel of broken down trailers, a burning feeling of injustice came over me. This two-day joyride for a random tweaker turned into a $1,700 expense for us, with a side dish of palpable anxiety.

On the topic of stress, I would like to stress that this is not normal. Back east, no one has experienced car theft since the 90s. And yet in places like Oakland we simply accept car theft, catalytic converter theft, and chronic bipping as normal.

That’s something I won’t miss.

But, in the spirit of giving thanks, there are many things I will miss about Oakland. The strong sense of community. The lack of significant traffic. Being able to drive 15 minutes and be in a redwood forest. Sailing across the Bay…

Luckily, I have several important journalistic endeavors underway in Northern California, including an investigation into a missing indigenous woman in Mendocino and a documentary series about water issues across the state. Both of these projects will require regular visits to the Bay Area.

And of course, there are many pizzerias and diners in the Bay that I have yet to try. Rest assured Oakland, this reviewer is not done with you yet.

In spite of the difficulties of moving, I’m excited to take this blog to the City of Angels, where there are hundreds of pizzerias, bagel shops, diners, and delis deserving of a Jersey-style comeuppance.

One such establishment is a deli in Lincoln Heights called Lanza Brothers. I have actually been to Lanza Bros before, the last time I lived in LA around 2019. And I remember it being quite good. The interior is certainly something to get excited about.

Lanza Bros is essentially an old-school bodega that, unlike most West Coast convenience stores, actually makes sandwiches like the bodegas do in New York. (Read my love letter to NY Bodegas here.) They have been around since 1926, and the place doesn’t look like it’s changed much at all since they first opened.

Suffice it to say, this boy was starting to get his hopes up.

I ordered the Italian Special (obviously), which comes with ham, salami, cappocola (the meat we famously call gabagool in Jersey), and pepperoni.

“Do you want it with everything?” the counter man asked.

“Yes,” I replied, “with oil and vinegar please.”

The sandwich cost a refreshingly reasonable $9 and appeared in less than three minutes on the counter wearing a cute paper bag.

The first thing that jumped out to me about this sandwich is the meats… or lack thereof. The word I would use to describe the portion of Italian meats served on a Lanza Bros sandwich is skimpy. A proper Italian sub (as they’re known back east) should be stacked with 1-2 full inches of meat and cheese. Lanza’s came with a 1/2 inch at best.

For comparison, here is a photo of an authentic Italian sub from a very fine New Jersey establishment called Casa del Sole, which I documented during my travels this summer but have yet to find time to write about.

It’s kind of hard to tell because the peroncinis are tumbling out in front of the meats, but do you see how this sandwich is literally bursting at the seems? Notice the posture of my hand, fully extended, barely able to keep a grip on this monster of a sandwich. The ratio of fillings to bread here is about 75-25 percent.

Now take another glance at the photo of the Lanza Bros sando. The filling to bread ratio on that boy is more like 40-60 (and that’s being generous). This is not good.

I take a bite. The first flavor that hits my tongue is… yellow mustard?

Absolutely unacceptable.

An Italian sub has just two condiments: oil and vinegar. No more, no less. That’s it!

To make matters worse, this sandwich doesn’t just have mustard… a second bite reveals something even more sinister: mayonnaise.

Jesus f**ing christ… for the love of god, WHY DOES MY ITALIAN SUB HAVE MUSTARD AND MAYO?

You guys, this is not cool. It’s really not. I realize now that when the man asked me if I wanted “everything,” the correct response should have been “what exactly does ‘everything’ mean?”

But here’s the thing. I shouldn’t have to ask. Because when you put ‘Italian sandwich’ on your menu, there is an expectation that it comes with a large portion of meats and cheese, lettuce, tomato, red onion, pepperoncinis, olive oil and red or balsamic vinegar.

Mustard and mayo have never been on the menu. Except for here in Los Angeles, apparently.

The sense of indignation I felt while eating this sandwich was soon replaced with a new, equally unwelcome sensation upon finishing it: hunger.

True jabronis know that you should never, EVER feel hungry after an Italian sub. Most of the time, you can only finish half and wind up saving the rest for a midnight snack.

But after consuming this entire sandwich from Lanza Brothers, I was still hungry enough to head back inside for a bag of Fritos.

Disgraceful.

I wanted to love Lanza Bros. I really did. Especially given the old school vibes and very decent price range. I also remember eating here before and not having such a negative reaction. If I was this disappointed the first time, I certainly wouldn’t have returned. And yet, I did return, with a vague memory of Lanza Bros serving a somewhat decent Italian sub.

Maybe something happened over the pandemic that caused them to go downhill.

Maybe I just got an inexperienced sandwich preparer.

Or maybe I’m just searching for excuses.

The skimpiness of the meats combined with the absolutely travesty of a dressing choice results in the following rating.

West Coast: 5

East Coast: 3

ncG1vNJzZmirnJa6qL7Ap5ueqqOku2%2B%2F1JuqrZmToHuku8xop2ikkaPHonnBq6atoJWnwA%3D%3D