Drunk Review: Subway Meatball Sub

So, I am walking home from one of my locals (The Only Cafe) after having a couple of good beers and a half decent one. I had been tweeting earlier with a person who remember Ottawa in the 90's as a land of shawarmas and Imperial Pizza, so I had a hankering for a donair.

I stopped at Fuzzbox and had a donair and continued on my way. There was still a little space for a little something something and so I decided to stop by the Subway. When I was younger and poorer, if that is the right term, I used to order a meatball sub with veggies, especially jalapeno peppers. For old time sake, I order one of those beasts and got the creamy smoky sauce, hot sauce, jalapenos, green peppers and red onions. After the bitterness of the hops, I find that spice can cut through it and provide some type of decent flavour.

 The problem was that all the additions tasted great but the meatballs tasted of mush. There was a vague meaty taste but it was the type of preformed meatishness found in cans of Puritan meatballs and gravy. I know that the hoppiness of the beer that I indulged in earlier kills some of the more nuanced notes found in food later consumed but it would not kill every note. Think of it like going to a loud concert. When you get out, you get that strange form of ringing in your ears. Usually, you can still understand what is on the radio as you drive away from the venue. You could recognize the band and even hum along. This would be the equivalent of not even realizing the radio was on. The meatballs tasted of nothing. I would be hard pressed to let you know what the meat was.

In some ways, I guess this is a good drunk snack. Not offensive with enough breadiness to quell your stomach and slow down the absorption of alcohol. In another sense, it does not punch through the alcohol numbness. It is a toss-up if you are a youngster but as a more seasoned foodie, I think I probably should have ordered some fried pepperoni with my donair.