Gary Sauce hovers over a vat of boiling oil, frying chicken cutlets. We’re in the rear kitchen of Antonio’s Italian Specialties, the three-year-old South Philly deli a block from Jefferson Methodist Hospital, where I was born. It’s where Sauce (real last name: Gerace) and his younger brother Joey make beloved hoagies like the Damien, which stars the restaurant’s thoroughly seasoned and fried-to-order cutlets. “What is the secret?” I ask Sauce. Dina Smith, who owns Antonio’s with her husband, Franco Saija, answers for him. “Cutlet Jesus,” she deadpans. Smith points to a miniature Christ statue, seemingly no taller than a Tic Tac, perched above the flame-scorched stovetop. Hoagies are the bedrock of Philly sandwich culture, and every worthy spot has a secret, a little thing it does differently. At Antonio’s, it’s the cutlets. Cutlet Jesus notwithstanding, Sauce credits a custard soak for their tenacious crust. Most people, when they hear “hoagie,” think of the Italian variety, a kaleidoscope of cured meats and cheeses layered inside a long roll with lettuce, tomato, onion, oregano, oil, and vinegar. But cold cuts, chicken or tuna salad, fried seafood, or veggies can all be hoagie-ified. Observant Muslims break Ramadan fast with fish hoagies. Fauxgies accommodate vegans with cashew cheese and eggless mayo. For me, cutlets must be paired with cold cuts to qualify. A cutlet sandwich with rabe and mozzarella? Not a hoagie. A cutlet with prosciutto and provolone? Hoagie. Other Philadelphians may disagree, and that’s inherent to the hoagie’s charm. What’s better than a sandwich you can not only inhale but argue over? Here are eight to try.
