Just a second ago, a Jersey Mike’s commercial came on the TV. I’ve never been to a Jersey Mike’s in my life but they seem to be doing pretty well these days, judging by the prevalence of their ad campaign. I must say, though, the sandwiches featured in the video bore a striking resemblance to those of Blimpie, a submarine sandwich chain we used to have here in northern Indiana as the primary competitor of Subway. Now this title of runner up probably goes to Jimmy John’s, obviously, another probable factor in Blimpie’s denigration of store volume.
I mean, is there actually something about Jersey Mike’s that’s better than Blimpie’s? I have to admit, that oregano was like glistening in the wind with some serious fervor. Or maybe people just like saying a restaurant with “Jersey” in the name and answering the question of “What would you like to order?” with “You talkin’ to me?”
Blimpie’s was basic. Sure. It was just sub sandwiches, chips, cookies and pop. I literally think that’s all we had in the whole store (I worked at one part time the summer before my senior year in high school). From what I remember, we didn’t even have any wraps. I suppose this led to its retraction too. But then, sub sandwiches are freakin’ everywhere. Now, in the South Bend area, in addition the “big two” of Subway and Jimmy John’s, there’s Penn Station (the undeniable titan, in my opinion), Potbelly, the aforementioned Jersey Mike’s, Which Wich and Portillo’s — all regional or national chains with bustling stores in or around town.
The demand for the product is obvious, in other words, which makes you wonder what went wrong with the Blimpie franchise, which I believe started in New York City (actually I think the Beastie Boys talk about going to one in “An Open Letter to NYC”). Like Jersey Mike’s, Blimpie didn’t toast the bread — it was just cold meats piled onto fluffly loaves, for the most part, and a little oven for whipping up things like chicken and bacon.
One noteworthy little bit of lore, anyway, that my boss told me while I was working at the Blimpie back in 2001, was that all of Subway’s meats are actually 65% turkey, with the exception of the turkey, of course, which would be 100%. Looking back on the Blimpie menu and product line, I can’t help but ruminate on how it really covered all the bases — ham, bacon, turkey, roast beef, capicola, salami, Italian meatball (the meatballs were held hot in sauce on the line, ready to go) and I think a veggie offering as well as a veggie patty. What more could you want in a quick, stop-and-go lunch diner? Everything was sliced fresh, including a variety of cheeses, and another thing I liked is that they offered six-inch or footlong, one catering to my mom and sister during our visits and the other my usual choice, especially after a soccer game and such.
Now, it’s like the foundation has been yanked out from under me. I go in a Subway, for instance, and though I generally enjoy their products decently I have that annoying knowledge that all their lunch meat is 65% turkey (I usually opt for the tuna, anyway). They have this irksome gaggle of breads to choose from, none of which really ever seem to hit the spot, contrasted sharply against the Blimpie menu which just had that one white bread that was perfect, unchangeable and baked to a flawless crisp, with no toasting required. I have to look at all these stupid options like pizza, buffalo chicken and wraps and I just think, can we go back to Adam and Eve?
Plus, my boss at Blimpie was really funny, which I suppose isn’t really to my point but is amusing to mention nonetheless. One time I accidentally threw this dirty pan into the sanitizing water instead of the detergent water and he goes, “Little mayonnaise floaties!” He would rib this one college girl who was home for the summer about her alcohol consumption down at IU: “She’s a lush… she pigs out.” And I mean, I got to work with that ultra-cute IU girl and also this stoner chick from Oregon who played a Sublime tape and always knew when the next Umphrey’s McGee show at the Mishawaka Brew Pub was going to be. Now I don’t have any of these things anymore — the Blimpie’s, the brew pub, the stoner chick, the Umphrey’s shows — and I AM the beer-guzzling curmudgeon. Well, at least you can see why, now.