Everyone Starts From Zero

What the hell is a "Grub Steak"? 

A good Philly Cheesesteak is a work of art. It's the greasy, cheesy deliciousness that is needed after a night of ambitious alcohol consumption. It's good during the day too, for lunch or dinner or maybe even for breakfast. We all have had a good one. We all have had a bad one. That's life.

I have never lived in Philadelphia, nor spent a lot of time there. In my youth, I lived in Virginia Beach for about 12 years. I never saw a Philly Cheesesteak there, but I did see and consume Zero's Grub Steak & Cheese subs. During that time, I never figured out what a "Grub Steak" actually is. Grub is another word for food. It could be that. A "grubsteak" in modern terms is funds or assistance given to start a business. It could be that. Or it could have been just a play on words. No one ever said. It didn't matter. It was always delicious. Well, until it wasn't.

I know they make Philly Cheesesteaks in locations other than Philadelphia, but true aficionados know the best and truest  cheesesteaks are made in Philadelphia. The problem is the aficionados can't decide who makes the best one. I can understand that. It all comes down to the details. 

They all do agree that it started with Pat Olivieri and his brother Harry. In 1930, they opened a hot dog stand near the Italian Market at Passyunk Avenue and Wharton Street in South Philly. One day sometime in the 30's, Pat, tired of eating his own hot dogs, had Harry get some beef scraps from a nearby butcher. He sliced them up, and cooked them with a bit of onion, on the griddle he used for the hot dogs. He seasoned the meat and put it on one of his hot dog buns. A passing cabbie smelled it and asked for one. After tasting it, the driver said, "Forget the hot dogs, sell these!" This was the birth of the Philly steak sandwich. 

The steak sandwiches at Pat's caught fire and after a while they were what most people ordered. After a few years Pat stopped selling hot dogs and renamed his stand, "Pat's King Of Steaks". He eventually moved into a tavern across the street, cut a hole in the wall and sold his steak sandwiches out the window. He was so successful, he bought the building. 

It wasn't until the 1940's, that drunk employee / manager, "Cocky" Joe Lorenza added provolone cheese to the meat while it was still cooking on the grill (so it melted). People loved it. This was the birth of the "Philly Cheesesteak".

Of course, hundreds of people copied it. Different kinds of cheese were used. Different techniques employed. Different kinds of beef were used. A lot of folks came and went over the years. The ones that lasted had 4 core elements, thinly sliced beef, melted cheese, an Italian hoagie roll and wit or witout cooked onions.

Traditionally, the meat is thin sliced ribeye. Cheese is provolone, white American or Cheez Whiz. The roll is a long Italian hoagie roll, preferably Amoroso (a local Philly bakery) and traditionally not toasted. The onions are sliced or chopped and cooked on the griddle. These you can get wit or witout.

There is a specific ordering lingo. When you get to the window, with cash in your hand, you announce the number you want, the type of cheese, and wit (with onions) or witout (without onions). A "one Whiz wit" would be: one cheesesteak with Cheez Whiz and onions. Then you pay. The key here is speed. 

At the high volume places, there is a window where you order the cheesesteak + pay + pick it up, and another window where you order drinks and fries + pay + pick them up. They are fast and the lines move quickly. Over the past summer some of the old school traditional places have started taking credit cards. Can you believe that? That makes it hard for them to hide cash (death & taxes) but the times they are changing. 

Each of the top places do some things a little different. They all adhere to the 4 core elements, but do things their way to attract and hold a loyal following. Their customers are loyal, fiercely so. Some chop the meat on the griddle, some leave it as whole as possible, some put the cheese and onions on top of the meat while it's still on the griddle, some don't... I could go on and on but you get the idea, minor differences.

Everyone in Philadelphia has their favorite place and there isn't a shortage of them in the city. Pat's King Of Steak is still there after almost a hundred years and he has competition right across the street with Geno's, who's been there since 1966. They both sell a ton of cheesesteaks and they both are open 24 hours.

How much do they gross? Nobody knows for sure but it's a lot because they are always busy. Jim's South Street, Joe's Steaks + Soda Shop and Dalessandro's Steaks are 3 more contenders for the best title. Most locals say Pat's and Geno's are just tourist traps and other places are better, but they can't agree on which one is the best. It doesn't matter. They all do a lot of business. The Philly Cheesesteak is alive and well in Philadelphia. 

I have eaten only one true Philly Cheesesteak and it was from Pat's (one, Whiz, wit). It was late night and I went for the history factor. I think it was good but I had indulged in a wee bit of libation that evening so my judgement might be flawed. It was around 1973, so it was a while ago as well. Perhaps a memory factor is also involved. Of course, I remember what I ordered so... Getting old your memory gets selective.

When I think of steak + cheese + bread, I always go back to my time in Virginia Beach, especially the first 2 years (1971 & 1972) and Zero's Mr. Submarine. That's what it was called back then. Now it's called Zero's Subs. We just called it Zero's. I loved the Grub Steak & Cheese. I have fond memories of them.

They have sub type sandwiches all over this country, but they sometimes go by a different name, Po'Boys in New Orleans, Hero in New York, Grinder in New England, Italian Sandwich in Maine, Hoagie in Philadelphia, Torpedo in the Northeast, Wedge in Connecticut, Blimpie in New Jersey, Bomber in Buffalo, and Zeppelin in Pennsylvania. It goes on and on. Same sandwich different name.  

That first summer in Virginia Beach, Les Wall, a Kappa Sigma buddy, and I had an upstairs apartment in Eden's Alley over retail and head shops downstairs. There was even a theater and a coffeehouse in the mix of shops. It was a happening place at the time. We worked as waiters at the Copper Kettle Restaurant on 7th Street. 

The apartment was leased to us by Tito the owner of the Puritan restaurant on the corner of Atlantic and 17th. We were a building and a vacant lot away from "The Shack", a bar where we practiced the art of youthful alcohol consumption. We got quite good at it. That and "Foosball" on a Rene Pierre table. The apartment and "The Shack" were on 17th Street between Atlantic and Pacific. We were a mere 5 blocks away from Zero's original store on the corner of 21st Street and Pacific. We walked a lot back then, so much to see and do. There was an abundance of drinking establishments in between 17th Street and Zero's, mostly on Atlantic Avenue, but some tucked away down some side streets. By the end of that first summer we knew them all. The sacrifices we make for our art.

Zero's was started by Gene Schmidt in 1967, the same year I graduated from high school. From what I've read, other people were involved at one time or another, a cousin David Miele at the beginning, brother John Schmidt and cousin Marty Palacios came on board in 1969 and later, family members from the younger  generation. Gene went to East Carolina the same college I did. He played football but wasn't destined for a professional career.

He was born in Williamsport, Pennsylvania and worked in a small sub shop there when he was 12. The shop focused on hot, oven baked submarine sandwiches. His family moved to the Norfolk area and he attended Granby High School before going to ECU. This was when it was still East Carolina College. It didn't get university status until 1967, the year after he graduated. 

After graduation he did what I did and decided to live at the beach. Lots of good things happen at the beach, cold beer, pretty ladies, beautiful blue water, crashing waves and the coconut aroma of  Hawaiian Tropic Professional Tanning Oil. Of course, he had to make a living. Remembering Williamsport, he came up with the idea of a sub shop focusing on hot, oven baked submarine sandwiches. He only had about $600 in his bank account when he opened, so he basically had no money. He decided on the name Zero's. He had 2 of those on the end of that $6 and "everyone starts from zero". He took a shot. He was one of the lucky ones and hit the big time. 

I was there 4 years later. All I knew about the owners of Zero's was it was the Schmidt brothers. I heard it from my buddy "Rat". We ate a lot of those Grub Steak & Cheeses together back then. By this time, Zero's had 7 stores, 4 at the Beach and 3 in Norfolk. I would see Gene in the original store on 21st street every once in a while. Back then I wasn't concerned about who owned the shop. I was concerned about how long it was going to take me to get that delicious baby home. I always got my Grub Steak & Cheese to go. 

The Grub Steak & Cheese must have been their best seller because on my late night shift, it was all I saw going out the door. We would come in the door, go up to the counter and place our order. It was always the same for me, a grub steak and cheese, toasted, with lettuce and tomato, vinegar and oil, hot pepper flakes, to go. They had pizza on the menu, but I never saw anyone order one. 

Back then there were no paper tickets. They were fast. The guy at the counter would call the order to the cook on the griddle. He would slap the meat on the flat top with onions, slice the bun, when the meat was done he put the cooked meat and onions on the bun, top the meat with cheese, put it on a pizza pan open faced and slid it into a deck oven, pull it out after the cheese melted and the bun was crisp, top it with lettuce and tomato, oil and vinegar, a sprinkling of salt, pepper and oregano, then a sprinkling of hot pepper flakes. He would wrap the whole thing in white butcher paper (they now have their own paper with their logo on it).

Then he would lay it up on the counter, we would come over and pay for it, grab it and head home. The cheese I think was white American, but it could have been provolone. If it was provolone, it was a domestic product because it tasted like white American. The beverages they served were all bottled in the beginning but didn't match the beverages we had at home (beer). I think the wrapping of the sub in the butcher paper added to the overall flavor and texture of the finished product. It sort of helped everything meld together.

On Zero's menu today, there is a Philly Cheesesteak in addition to the Grub Steak & Cheese. It's made with thin sliced ribeye. It's interesting to see they never took the Grub Steak off the menu. I'm not sure if that is the case in other markets where they have stores. They have about 90 stores today across several states. There are none near me so I can't check out the Philly vs. Grubsteak. I haven't been back to Virginia Beach in 30 years. 

In the beginning I didn't care what a Grub Steak was but over the years, I found out it was a frozen wafered beef product similar to "Steak-umms". It wasn't exactly a "Steak-umms" because they weren't invented until 1968 and were never sold commercially to restaurants, at least not under the name "Steak-umms". Wafered beef has been around since the 1950's. Zero's sourced this product locally until the mid 70's when they started to franchise stores in other states. I'm guessing they chose to go with a national product to stay consistent in every store. This occurred in the mid 1970's and was when Zero's Grub Steak & Cheese lost its allure for me. It didn't taste the same.

Of course that could be due to perception. What one perceives is one's reality. It's based on your beliefs, emotions, biases, past  experiences, culture, and sometimes mood. Therefore it is subjective, and varies from person to person. 

Reality is objective. It exists independently of what one thinks. It can be observed, measured or verified. It does not change based on feelings or assumptions. 

So, perhaps the Grub Steak & Cheese didn't really change that much. Maybe I outgrew my appreciation for it. Maybe because of growing food experiences and time in restaurant kitchens, my perception of the Grub Steak & Cheese changed. 

That has certainly happened in other parts of my life, so why not with Zero's. One thing has not changed, my appreciation of Gene Schmidt and his accomplishments.

They have torn down the original store on 21st Street and built a large seafood restaurant and shop. It was "better use of the expensive real estate". I guess there wasn't enough money in subs. Gene, David Miele, and John Schmidt have gone to that big sub shop in the sky. Gene showed me that anything is possible if you believe in yourself. There are people that start restaurants with a lot of money. Undercapitalization is the major cause of failures and bankruptcies. A lot people like Gene start with zero. I was part of that crowd of "everyone starts from zero".  

Excerpt From "Warm Against The Cold"

“What are you going to have?” Said Walt.

“Why do you always ask that? I’m going to have a grub steak with cheese, toasted, with lettuce and tomato, vinegar and oil and hot pepper flakes, to go. What are you going to have?”

“The same.”

“That’s what we always get.”

“Yeah I know. Tonight sucked!”

“It could be worse. We could be in bed with a couple of coyotes.”

“True."

They stood at the counter in Zero’s Sub shop going over the night’s misadventures. It was right across the street from Peabody’s.

Zero’s was always our solace on non-scoring nights. It allowed us to take something warm home even if it was gone twenty minutes after we got there. Over the next few years we must have taken hundreds of those subs home with us. I don’t eat them anymore. They’re not the same as they use to be but then again neither am I.  

 Dying On The Pass

The restaurant business has a lingo all its own. "Dying on the Pass" is one term. The Pass, sometimes called the Window, is the heated, sometimes not heated, counter area where plated food is handed off from the kitchen (Back Of The House) to the servers (Front Of The House) and run to the tables. When an item is "Dying On The Pass" it means the plated food has been sitting too long at The Pass and is losing quality (temperature, texture, or appearance) before being served.

This term is usually an admonishment from the chef or a line cook for the servers to pick up the item or items and run them to the table. I think we all have been served, at one time or another, an item that sat a little too long and "Died On The Pass". It happens. People are human. They make mistakes. I'm not talking about dishes that "Died" before they got to the "Pass". I'm talking about dishes that were perfect when they arrived at the "Pass" but sat too long. The former is a story for another day.

If you get served one of these dishes you have a couple of options. You can send it back, or you could eat it, or you can play with it and not eat it. Personally, I prefer not to eat it, but I don't want to send it back. I will sit there and play with it so it looks like I ate some of it. Then pick up a burger on my way home. My problem is most of the places where I eat know I'm in the business. No one involved in the restaurant business wants to send anything back to the kitchen. They know what's going to happen. Most kitchens are a bit harsh in this situation, especially when it's busy. Someone is definitely going to get blamed for this dish "Dying On The Pass", a server, a cook, someone.

This situation is going to require a new dish to be cooked "On The Fly". "On The Fly" is an urgent request to make a dish immediately because a dish was returned, forgotten, dropped, or not entered correctly. It gets top priority in a kitchen, even if a cook has to use another table's order to supply the remake. This wrecks havoc with the timing in the kitchen. Seasoned cooks know this and take it in stride. The key to working in a professional kitchen is the ability to adapt and move on. 

This ability to adapt is necessary for every position in the restaurant. Especially when you are deep "In The Weeds". This can happen to servers or cooks or bartenders. It means you're overwhelmed and behind, too many tickets all at once, too many things that need to be done right now. There is a sense you are drowning and completely helpless. You get a glazed look in the eyes. You enter a brain fog where you can't think clearly. You start to panic. You can't breathe. The only way out of "The Weeds" is to not panic, take a deep breath, decide what are the 3 most important things to do, do them, then do 3 more, then 3 more. You pull yourself out of "The Weeds". You have grabbed a gas powered weed wacker and slashed your way out. Taking no prisoners. It's a good feeling.

Of course, this ability to adapt or to get out of "The Weeds" is useless if that particular item has been "86'ed". This means that the kitchen for whatever reason is out of this item. This term originated in the 1930's as soda fountain rhyming slang for the word "nix". A lot of kitchens have an "86" board that lists everything they are out of, including food items and alcohol items. Sometimes even customers.

Over the years "86" has evolved to mean in addition to out of stock, cancel an order, remove a customer, or stop doing something. In the effort to provide fresh items especially seafood, I would buy small lots of certain items. Occasionally we would run out and have to 86 that item. We bought fresh fish and seafood on a daily basis, so we would only be out for the night. The next day we would get a fresh supply. 

In the past, I have had to 86 a customer, mostly because of excessive consumption of alcohol. I always kept this to a minimum because the unruly customers are usually the people that spent the most money and come in the most frequently. No sense in shooting yourself in the foot. I have issued a lifetime ban on only 2 customers in my 40 years in the business, so you can imagine what they must have done to deserve that. Life is short. 

The "Pass" varies in size from extremely small to quite large. The smallest has to be the one at Bistrot Paul Bert in Paris and one of the largest had to be the 'Pass" at Citronelle in Washington D.C..

They come with heat lamps in some cases. I have never been a fan of heat lamps, so for the most part, I never use them. The only exception is on the line at the fry station. French fries and other deep fried foods by their nature tend to cool rapidly, so I would use a heat lamp to keep them warm before actually plating them. 

Heat lamps, to me, are a crutch. Instead of getting a dish out when it's at its peak, it allows you to let it sit there for a while. It doesn't ever get better sitting under a heat lamp. When I was cooking, I kept the dinner plates on the stove shelf so that they are warm, not hot but warm. Of course, some dishes are served cold (salads) and we kept those plates in our ice cream freezer in the cold pantry. This is another reason to not have heat lamps on the "Pass". A salad doesn't need to be warm. It needs to be cold. We even chilled the salad forks. 

Some restaurants have a number of "Passes", usually one in front of a particular cooking station, i.e. wood fired grill, cold pantry, wood fired oven, desert station. To the untrained eye this would look confusing but to an experienced server it's child's play. Otium in Los Angeles was a classic example of this phenomenon. 

This requires the server to be really on his toes to get all the different dishes for the table to the table at the same time. Most of the time there is an expediter, who assembles the orders on a main "Pass" and makes sure everything is perfect. They make sure the server has a complete and correct order. They also insure it gets to the table quickly, while it's at its peak. 

In my life, I have been lucky enough to have eaten in a number of really fine restaurants. Restaurants headed by some really fine chefs. Sadly, a lot of these chefs are no longer at the "Pass" for a number of different reasons. Some have died. It's a part of life. Some have retired. Cooking is a young man's game, with young man knees and other young man body parts. Some have been caught up in controversies that have ended their careers. I have lost a lot of friends and inspirations over the years.

Some are no longer on the "Pass" because they have moved on to be food influencers or food personalities. In some cases this was good and some not so good. Like a lot of things, which case it is, depends on who you talk to. You can't please everyone and everyone is a critic.  
 

Luckily, there are a whole new generation of cooks out there on the 'Pass". A lot of them are very talented cooks. They work their magic for old as well as new generations. Their job is a lot harder these days with everyone being a food expert and all the social media platforms exposing them. Everybody's a critic no matter what their knowledge or experience. I don't think I could do it today. I would be "Dying On The Pass".