So when I was in Chestnut Hill the other day, I didn’t really want an overpriced sandwich from a cute cafe, I wanted a Schmitter from McNally’s. But I’d never been, so I went down the street the wrong way and couldn’t find it. And when we eventually stopped to eat, we stopped just short of it. It was just a tragic error. This time around, I knew my destination, and I knew exactly where it was. The place is totally easy to miss. It has no sign, except a tiny little nameplate on the door. Without seeing it, you would totally walk right by. Don’t worry, I totally found it this time.
The place is totally anti-Chestnut Hill. It’s a tiny little postage stamp of a place… dark, comfortable, absolutely non-swanky. Just my kind of place. They’ve got plenty of decent beers on tap as well as other alcoholic treats. But it’s famous for the Schmitter. A sandwich that is trademark. In fact, this place has several trademarked sandwiches, including the Dickens, the Peter Rabbit, and the Tobias. I’d been hearing about the Schmitter for what seems like a year, and for whatever reason, the last time I was supposed to come here, I just didn’t make it. Well, I had to correct that wrong.
K got a grilled chicken sandwich. See how huge this thing is? I was rather impressed. And it comes with a tub of homemade honey mustard. K made quite a dent in this thing. But he didn’t completely finish it.
And you know damn well that I was getting me a damn Schmitter… sliced beef with salami, fried onions, cheese, tomato, and schmitter sauce, which came on a buttery toasted kaiser roll. Man, I’m in love with this. It’s horrifically bad for you, and that just an additional reason why I love it so. It’s hot and greasy and dripping with sauce and mess and every bite is like sunshine. I could have eaten another one of these, if my pesky stomach was a bit bitter.
And the service is great too. It’s totally family run and you know the servers have been working here forever. And all the people seemed like regulars. The dude next to us told us to get a slice of the chocolate cake. Apparently, it’s amazing. I couldn’t partake, but I will remember this for next time. Yeah, I’ll be back for more Schmitter. If I had my way, it’d be all Schmitter, all the time.