We returned this morning from my mother’s home in central Pennsylvania where we spent three days of our long Labor Day Holiday weekend. This is the final weekend of the summer season, making it the last opportunity for many people to have a barbecue. There is one small problem with cooking out three days in a row: the monotony of the menu.
Saturday menu: hamburgers (with/without cheese), hot dogs, potato salad, macaroni salad, chips, pretzels, and maybe fried chicken.
Sunday menu: all the chicken was eaten yesterday, so today we have hamburgers (with/without cheese), hot dogs, potato salad, macaroni salad, chips, pretzels.
Monday menu: anything but hamburgers (with/without cheese), hot dogs, potato salad, macaroni salad, and chips, please!
I offer this as the only possible explanation of why Anne Marie had a craving for a pizza steak sandwich. For those outside our area of southeastern Pennsylvania, this is a variation of the traditional cheesesteak sandwich with pizza sauce slapped on top. So upon our return to our home neighborhood, we set out to find a pizza steak.
Normally, this is no problem in our neighborhood, since there are no less than four pizzerias within two square miles of our house. I have concluded that, somewhere in America, there is a zoning law that requires this many pizza restaurants to exist in such a small area. All other townships, boroughs, villages, and hamlets in the country have since adopted this variance as a good idea. I have no proof that this is true, but I dare anyone to come up with any other explanation for this economic phenomena.
Now, I’ve always thought that Labor Day was primarily a holiday set aside for the workers of this country, particularly the unionized workers. Don’t get me wrong; I’m not against everybody celebrating this holiday, because I realize that not everyone wants to work in a union shop, or is fortunate enough to belong to a union and enjoy the benefits of membership. However, when we go searching for a pizza steak and find that all four
of our pizza shops are closed for the holiday, then I have to wonder if the holiday is a good idea after all.
I don’t object to the shops giving their employees time off to barbecue with their families, and for all I know they may have opened later in the day. Still, I doubt that all of these mom and pop restaurants are a closed union shop! In any event, we went way out of our way and finally found a pizza shop that was open, where my wife got to satisfy her craving. I really shouldn’t complain about this adventure, particularly since she paid for lunch.
Tuesday’s menu: half-eaten hamburgers (without), blackened crisp hot dogs, a lot of potato salad, a spoonful of macaroni salad, a potato chip or two being carried off by ants, and soggy pretzels when someone spilled their beer. Bon Appetit!