hold the pickle vol. 3 .... aka hold the lap dance

when one sets out on a quest he knows that inevitably there will be trials, trip ups, and snags along the way, and this weeks sickness (aka the flu that has plagued 90% of baltimore) has been the 1st trial in my sandwich quest. but fear not my friends your hero (with thanks to dayquil and gatorade) has stuck to his mission, over come the challenges, and has proceeded on his baltimore sandwich quest. 


this week i treated myself with a trip down route 40 to the outer limits of baltimore city to a little slice of heaven that is called chaps charcoal restaurant. chaps is the stuff of baltimore legend. its legendary bbq meats have attracted some of televisions top celeb food-o-philes including anthony bourdain, adam richman, and guy fieri. all of these shows focus on the gritty beauty that is chaps, and that beauty lies in their grilled to perfection meats that are shaved to paper thin slices and then stacked artfully in a heap which we call a sandwich. but there is one legend surrounding chaps (literally) that people dont really like to point out all to often, and thats the fact that chaps is located in the parking lot of the gentlemens gold club, one of the citys biggest strip joints. i have been to both, but never together in the same trip ... that would be an entirely different blog all together. i think i have an idea.


so for this stop on my quest i successfully avoided the lure of expensive drinks, cheap perfume, brass poles, and 60 second clips of eminem and headed into chaps with a carnivorous itch that needed to be scratched. i was not flying solo that afternoon. on this part of my quest i was joined by the brothers gee (aka gee prompt ... :air horn noise) and the local celeb chef, chef bill. when eating a chaps you begin your eating experience immediately with all of your senses. when you walk in the first thing that hits you is the smell of the sweet smokey meat slowly simmering on a massive grill. second you cant help but look at the scene that is unfolding behind the counter. there are enormous chunks and hunks of meat on a large charcoal grill that when teased with the fatty juices of said meat burps the occasional flame. hovering over top of this meat littered grate of fire is a massive dude who is armed only with a bbq mop and a welders glove. this behemoth individual is constantly turning meat, basting meat, and slicing meat with ballerina grace and elegance, but with the sweat factor of an nfl offensive linemen during august 2 a days. time to place an order.


'ill have a pit beef sandwich'


'what temp'


'rare'


'onions?'


'no thanks. the sandwich is all.'


'ok hon. you know where the tiger sauce is? its round the corner in the white bottle.'


i mean that interaction kind of tickled my inner baltimore kids heart. and my inner carnivores heart started thumping when my number was called and i was handed almost of pound of pit beef wedged between a sliced soft kaiser bun with a corm meal dusted top that was wrapped in aluminium foil. im not going to lie, but when you step up to the fixing bar and unwrap your sandwich its kind of like a mini christmas.

get to chaps and get down on the pit beef

after my fixin bar yule tide celebration i proceeded to the table to join my companions. pit beef. check. side of hand cut grease bomb fries. check. tiger sauce (aka horsie sauce). check. alabama style sweet bbq sauce. check. deliciousness. check.... 


sandwich quest continues. check.



**always looking for suggestions for places. i have an awesome list of suggestions and have been keeping track of who has made said suggestions. i also am always looking for worthy companions to eat these delicious sandwiches with. so please let me know if you have the stomach to join in my quest**