Inside the Mayhem of the Hoagie Throwdown

Delicious City Podcast’s Hoagie Throwdown / Photography by Jesse Smallwood

There’s nothing more Philadelphian than the hoagie. Last Sunday at Other Half Brewing in Fishtown, Eli Kulp, Marisa Magnatta, and Dave Wez of the Delicious City Podcast made that case with their Hoagie Throwdown, a panoply of sandwiches from more than 20 local spots, along with a four-match professional wrestling card headlined by “pizza chef” Luigi Primo.

To walk the outdoor lot of Other Half was to experience the hoagie as a mirror on the diversity of Philly food itself, with restaurants representing South Philly and Kensington as well as Ambler, Delco, and even Haddonfield. There were Italian classics (Pastificio, Angelo’s), cutlet riffs (chicken from Mary’s Chicken Strip Club, porchetta saltimbocca from Breezy’s Deli) and ingredients like char siu pork, kielbasa mortadella, beef feet tendon head cheese, crispy salmon skin, and recado negro chile paste, from such restaurants as TingTings, El Chingon, Cantina La Martina, Little Walter’s, and Yanaga Kappo Izakaya.

“The diversity that you can make into a hoagie — of flavors, cultures and textures — there’s more possibilities than I ever imagined,” says Kulp. “It was amazing seeing not just the classic delis doing great Italian hoagies, but Vietnamese flavors, Latin flavors, Indian flavors. Not only does [the contest] get the creative juices and competitive juices flowing, but you can see the pride and love that went into it.”

Càphê Roasters’ “Chili Chokehold” hoagie made with braised beef, lemongrass, shallots, garlic, red cabbage, saté, and a spicy Vietnamese chili sauce

The Throwdown’s only rules were that the hoagie had to be room temperature, on a long roll … and, of course, cut a certain way.

“A hoagie has to be hinged,” says Dane DeMarco of Gass & Main. “If you cut it straight through, then it becomes a sub. Other than that, the sky’s the limit.” The innovation of DeMarco’s “El Chopperino” was to turn the hoagie dip back on itself, putting a chopped salad of cured meats, cheese, and vegetables (both fresh and pickled) back between a roll instead of on the side.

Pastificio’s Anthony Messina and Frank Sangiuliano kept it classic with their deli’s eponymous hoagie, made with sopressata, capicola, and aged sharp provolone, plus lettuce, tomatoes, onions, olive oil, and spices, on a Corropolese roll. “This is it. Old world,” says Messina. “This is what our grandparents made. But I love the fact that there’s so many different types of restaurants trying to put a spin on [hoagies].”

Chef Reuben “Reuby” Asaram assembling his “Undertikka” hoagie made with tandoori chicken salad, pickled red cabbage, scallions, longanisa mayo, and salsa verde Cooper Sharp

As chef Reuben “Reuby” Asaram put it, “I don’t follow traditions, so I got to make my own version.” His hot pink roll was made by chef Joseph Argento of Mama’s Meatballs in Pennsauken; while Farina Di Vita, which usually offers Cacia’s in their shop, teamed up with Del Rossi’s for the Throwdown. Baguettes — both Mary’s Chicken Strip Club and Càphê Roasters used Ba Le.

Càphê executive chef Kevin Huynh’s hoagie started with braised beef marinated in shrimp paste, with lemongrass, shallot and garlic, plus red cabbage, and sa tế (Vietnamese chili sauce). “I can’t believe it turned out as well as it did,” Huynh said. “It’s amazing actually.” (He wasn’t bragging.)

The championship belt — for best hoagie, that is — went to celebrated pop-up chef Reuben “Reuby” Asaram for his “The Undertikka” (yes, the wrestling theme extended to the sandwich names): an Indian- and Mexican-inspired hoagie made with tandoori chicken salad, pickled red cabbage, scallions, longanisa mayo, and salsa verde Cooper Sharp on “a custom pink longhot roasted onion and garlic pecorino black sesame roll.”

Reuby’s visually and gastronomically stunning creation beat out the more traditional sharp provolone and cured-meat-based “Super Villain” from Farina Di Vita. The other runner-up, “The Chili Chokehold” from Càphê Roasters, was inspired by both bún bò Huế rice noodle soup and The Bear’s Chicago beef.

Delicious City hosts Marisa Magnatta, Eli Kulp, and Dave Wez

Delicious City’s Kulp and Wez both said that the mix was also something of a happy accident. A number of the hoagie spots they asked just couldn’t do it on a football Sunday, even with the Eagles off. That opened the door for more variety. And then they also had places reaching out to say, essentially, “I can make a hoagie!” That’s how you end up with a salmon pastrami, crispy salmon skin Yuzu–Sansho tartar sauce, and Cooper Sharp hoagie. (Yanaga Kappo, naturally.)

And how do you end up with a hoagie party that is also a pro wrestling lineup? When the Delicious City team was first brainstorming the event, producer Sara Parker came up with the name “Sammy Smackdown.” And while a “sammy” is not a hoagie, “smackdown” naturally made them think of wrestling. And Kulp already knew Pro Wrestling Entertainment’s Roman Fiorella and Jason Abrams.

And PWE had just the right guy for a food-adjacent match: Primo, an Austin, Texas-based wrestler whose mustachioed character combines an accent from the “spicy meatball” Alka Seltzer commercial with the use of pizza dough as a mesmerizing weapon.

Primo went up against Jordan Oliver and the BTA Philly team, with BTA’s Brandon “Buster” Scott (also of Q102) opposite Dave Wez as hype men. During one video promo, Buster “disrespected the hoagie” by knocking one out of Wez’s hand. “He’s not worthy to be a true Philadelphian,” Wez declared before the match.

Griffin McCoy vs. Hot Dog Starkes

There was also “the world’s only professional hot dog wrestler,” Hot Dog Starkes. (A hot dog being, well … not a hoagie, he lost his match.)

And The Crusher, who was originally supposed to face her fellow female Philadelphian Gaby Ortiz, instead worked over Ben The Bean, a lanky young man sporting a Phillie Phanatic headband à la Bryce Harper. The Crusher, whose gimmick is (obviously) to crush things, finished the Bean off by flattening him over a pile of Peanut Butter Kandy Kakes.

“Tastykakes are a big favorite of mine, especially the peanut butter ones, so to land on them from a chokeslam really hit me in the heart,” a chastened Bean said afterwards. He did, however, get to eat one. “That brought me back to healing.”

Porco’s and Breezy’s owner Chad Durkin, outfitted in an Eagles-themed fake muscle costume, also got into the wrestling spirit by flapping his wings and stomping his feet when Reuby got his championship belt — though he stopped short of attacking him.

But one question still remained as the headline match between Luigi Primo and Jordan Oliver began: Would a hoagie somehow be part of the wrestling? Does Luigi Primo’s pizzeria even serve a hoagie? (Given that he doesn’t really have a pizzeria, no.)

The answer came late in Primo’s bout, with the pizza man suddenly engulfed by both Oliver and the rest of BTA, putting him both literally and figuratively on the ropes, with his yeasted, tossed and stretched-out weapon out of reach.

“Luigi, get your pizza back!” one fan shouted. “Get your power back.”

Primo Luigi

And then, a tall older man with a salt-and-pepper buzzcut in a black Eagles golf shirt appeared, carrying what appeared to be a hoagie on a stick. Enter Sandman — as in Philadelphian and former Extreme Championship Wrestling (ECW) legend “The Sandman,” whose signature weapon is a Japanese kendo.

As the wrestling-savvy crowd chanted “E-C-Dub! E-C-Dub!,” the Sandman stepped over the ropes, whipped the long rolls off of his kendo, and sent most of the BTA crew fleeing, with Oliver clasping his head in fear.

Three thwacks later, the match was over, with a rejuvenated Primo flying off the corner turnbuckle for the pin. Then the Sandman, who back in his heyday was known for both smoking and drinking during matches, mingled with the crowd, pouring Other Half beers into the mouths of fans (including Farina’s Jason Okdeh) and posing for selfies.

Depending on which side of the ring you stood on, it looked as though the kendo had simply impaled a couple of empty rolls. But no — there was at least a little hoagie-making, the sandwiches secured by plastic wrap.

“I don’t think he stuffed it with too much,” says Kulp. “But there was definitely lettuce in there. When he threw it, the lettuce flew.”