Here's one thing I've grown attached to that I know I won't be able to get outside of Pittsburgh: Primanti Brothers. Oh lord, when you've had a long day of walking around hurrying around, there's almost nothing better than fried meat smashed between two slices of (basically) fried Italian bread. When you're running on empty, believe me, that horrible abomination against sandwich-kind will recharge your battery with much needed boiling grease.

When I was eating one the other day, I began to think about how wacky its origin story must have been.

"I want to eat a lot of things... but i only want to make the trip from my hands to my mouth once. Can you help me with this?"