Blimpie’s Fajita Sub Hefty Sandwich
This week I reached out for a Chicken Fajita Sub at Blimpie.
Here’s the blueprint: grilled marinated chunks of chicken, yellow cheese, white cheese, onions, tomatoes and all the usual fajita junk on a freshly baked submarine roll. The salsa’s on the side.
As Blimpie says in its TV commercials, “It’s a beautiful thing.” Which is sartorially important, because you’ll be wearing it soon.
Total calories: 580. Fat grams: 28. Manufacturer’s suggested retail price: $2.99 for the 6-inch sub, $5.49 for the foot-long.
No surprise here - I got the foot-long.
Before we get started, let me say that Blimpie is my favorite name among the national fast-food chains. “Blimpie” says it all: It’s fat, and soon you will be, too. You’ve got to figure the portions are going to be big.
How come every restaurant I visit has a name like Fatburger, Chubby’s, Fatso’s and Big Frank’s? At least they’re honest.
I’m waiting for someone to go all the way and name his restaurant Chez Clogged Artery or Two-Ton Tony’s Shooting Pain in Your Left Arm.
You’d never catch me in a restaurant called Pepe’s Low-Cholesterol Hideaway. The waiters would be such condescending pests: “You know, you really don’t need that much butter.”
Blimpie’s Chicken Fajita Sub is a tasty, hefty sandwich. The chicken is warm, juicy and tender. The cheese is gooey. The flavors blend together well. And every sandwich is prepared fresh to order.
The best thing about the Chicken Fajita Sub is the same best thing about every Blimpie sandwich - the pipin’ hot bread. Blimpie bakes its white and whole-wheat rolls throughout the day. The store smells so good, it’s like visiting my grandmother’s house.
Unlike granny, thankfully, Blimpie doesn’t hang support stockings over the shower rod. Granny has so many stockings hanging, her bathroom looks like an automatic car wash.
Blimpie’s bread is the best. To be honest, I could eat it plain and never complain.
Unfortunately, that’s where the Chicken Fajita Sub falls apart. It’s all straight downhill after the bread. This sandwich may start off a mighty handful, but it ends up a messy pantsful.
Those fajita chunks are slippery little devils. Roly-poly round objects don’t do well on flat surfaces. Otherwise William “Refrigerator” Perry still would be playing for the Bears.
When you squeeze a sandwich in the middle, something’s got to give. In this case, it’s the chicken.
You’re lucky Blimpie serves the salsa on the side, or you’d be blotting that off your shirt, too. (And salsa stains mean one thing. Next time your dry cleaning comes back, there will be a little tag on the hanger: “Sorry, we couldn’t get this spot out.”)
Blimpie’s traditional cold subs are so much neater. Everything that goes into a Blimpie Best, like ham, salami, capacolla and provolone, is flat. It stays where it’s supposed to. You can mush it down, squeeze it silly, take it with you on Space Mountain at Disney World and nothing flings out the side.
My recommendation: Go to Blimpie, but play it cool - stick with the cold cuts.