A city's rep is highly subjective: while some people associate Detroit with urban blight/decay, others know it as Hockeytown, much like some cast Philadelphians as obnoxious loudmouths...of course, they're penis-less clowns whose moms are fat. Definitively proving Philly's rep as an eating town, Sandwich Smash.
Tickets just went on sale for Smash, the brainchild of the local duo behind 2009's Best of Philly food blog Unbreaded.com, who organized this chef demo/tasting celebrating Philadelphia's esteemed sandwich culture by gathering five of the burg's foremost sand-thorities to construct their specialties on stage, while telling the story behind each breaded creation, like Iron Chef meets Inside the Actors Studio where James Lipton's made of pastrami. On a Sunday but cleverly scheduled on the Eagles' bye week, the three-hour seated affair'll have one chef at a time demonstrate his sandwich-fabrication techniques while responding to questions; each sandwich'll then be served to the guests, along with pairings of beverages from Anheuser-Busch and chips from Herr's, because you love to get down with Herr/Busch. Participating geniuses include Peter McAndrews, of relatively young Paesano's, which has already gained a devout following; Michael Solomonov of highly touted Israeli outpost Zahav; Arthur Cavaliere of Parc, Stephen Starr's modern brasserie on Rittenhouse; and two guys recreating recipes handed down through generations: Mark Coates of Bebe's Barbecue, who's bringing grandmother's pulled pork, and Rick Olivieri of Rick's Steaks, whose granddad's credited with inventing the very cheesesteak he'll cook up for the event, making you wish you got more from your grandparents than a receding hairline and alleged trees in Israel.
Proceeds from the event (and sales of an exclusively designed t-shirt) benefit local community food banks as part of a food drive to collect jars of peanut butter & jelly, dubbed "Sandwiches Fight Hunger" -- of course you could take them both, and then totally sleep with their wives, cause who the hell do they think they are?