Take a bite outta Piranha's

Last week, a Joe I Know and I attended the Predators-Lightning game at the Nashville Arena, er, Gaylord Entertainment Center, er, Sommet Center (that's the one!). I suggested Piranha's for a before-game meal. Since I had a coupon for the place, and since Joe had never been there before, to Piranha's we headed.

From the outside, Piranha's looks like a run-of-the-mill watering hole. That's what it looks like on the inside, too. When you see the little grill and deep fryer behind the bar, you can't help but think that the only thing you'll be able to eat there is a greasy burger and/or some equally greasy chicken wings. How wrong be anyone who thinks such.

Piranha's claim to fame is Pittsburgh-style sandwiches. A Piranha's Pitt-style sandwich is unlike any sandwich I've ever had in any other restaurant in the U.S. of A. (Since the only time I ever stepped foot in Pittsburgh was to change planes on a return trip from D.C., I'll take the folks at Piranha's at their word when they say that their featured style o' sandwich is ubiquitous in Steel Town.)

A Piranha's sandwich treats its, um, eater to an entire pub-style meal stuffed between two slices of bread. A thick-sliced piece of country white bread is topped with meat(s) and cheese, a large pile of fresh-cut french fries, and a creamy, slightly sweet - and very tasty - coleslaw. When all the pilin' stops, the sandwich is topped with another slice of bread and served with a kosher pickle the size of the fat end of a German potato-masher grenade.

During our visit to Piranha's, the Joe I Know and I both ordered the same thing: The Italian Stallion. The Italian Stallion features capicolla ham, salami, thick-sliced bologna, and provolone cheese. We watched as the meats we ordered were turned on the grill a couple of times, which allowed the cheese to just start dripping when the fries and slaw are jammed on. We watched as our potatoes were sliced and placed in the deep fryer.

When Joe saw his sandwich, which was at least 5 and a half inches tall, his eyes bugged out. "How am I supposed to eat this thing?!" he asked. I told him to just lean over his plate, grab the thing with his both hands, and just do his best. I also assured him that I would not cast critical eyes - or laughs - his way if he had to keep re-building his sandwich. (Piranha's sandwiches have a propensity to partially or completely fall apart after each bite. Re-stacking the contents of your sandwich simply adds to the charm of the Piranha's experience.)

Though it took awhile, Joe and I were able to finish our sandwiches. We also finished off a half-dozen draft Yazoo beers. As we walked out the door, Joe was already askin' when he thought we'd be coming back. I guess that's about as good a tribute that one can give to Piranha's ... indeed.