I don’t often think to myself, “I really should blog this!” but today something happened that I felt I must share. In honor of my friends’ visit through and subsequent mostly safe return from Philadelphia, and in honor of the fact that I had a little more overtime than usual this week, I went out to Jersey Mike’s for a cheesesteak. Now remember this is South Carolina, so “cheesesteak” usually brings to mind a piece of t-bone with a slice of cheese on top. Jersey Mike’s is pretty good, all things considered. The rolls aren’t quite right, but I’ll overlook that. So I order my cheesesteak, and in the course of conversation mention to the guy that I’m from the Philly area. He thinks it’s cool that I think enough of them to eat their cheesesteaks and goes about preparing it. As he’s making it, he turns and, in all seriousness, asks, “Mayonnaise?”
Now, at that point my brain kicked into “really stupid comment” mode: it processes the fact that a stupid statement has been made and suspends all other non-essential active processes, both mental and physical, in order to devote more power to trying to figure out what was just said. The end result is that I look like I just froze. The deep thought is accompanied by a lot of blinking, not unlike a hard drive activity light. My response to this was the same as my typical response, which is to repeat the stupid comment in the form of a question, just to buy more time. If the comment happens to be a question, it sounds like I’m just repeating the guy. So: “Mayonnaise!?”
This guy must have had similar brain patterns (I’m scared now) because he looked at me as if I was the one saying something stupid. Finally a light dawns; he realizes that I’m not “from these here parts” and correctly deduces that mayonnaise is not a typical condiment or ingredient for a true cheesesteak. He apologizes and goes on about his business cooking my cheesesteak.
It was as if he had turned and asked, “Papaya?” It just didn’t make any sense whatsoever. For the uninitiated, a cheesesteak contains, as the name implies, steak (chopped into little pieces, I might add), cheese (melted or processed), and bread (which isn’t necessarily obvious, assuming you have the IQ of, well, mayonnaise). Additional popular favorite staples are onions and hot peppers. Ketchup (or marinara sauce, if you’re hard-core Italian) is the topping of choice. The jury is out on whether chicken cheesesteaks count as real cheesesteaks, because 1.) there’s no steak and 2.) there’s very little grease. A true Philly Cheesesteak will have grease from the cheese (or cheeze, depending on whether you used real cheese or processed oil) coming through the bag. Mmm. But I digress. You’ll notice that mayo never enters the list there. I’m not sure anyone up there has even thought about the idea.
The guy’s rationale was that this is the South - we eat everything with mayonnaise. And I’ve seen it, now that I think about it. The most popular combo is mayo and (gulp) french fries…or, heaven forbid, hash browns. Yech. I mean, when you think about it, all mayo is is egg whites whipped into a semi-viscuous liquid with vinegar. And people put it on fries. Oy. Once my brain had processed the day’s stupidity (not really his fault, I guess) I laughed the question off and got my food, sans mayo.
There’s no moral to this story, I don’t think. You’re welcome to come up with one and comment on it.














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