Longfellow's: They Have a System, and the System Works

In the real world, less than a year is not a very long time. In the Patch world, it's an eternity.

So, it was an eternity ago–July 2010, to be specific–a very green (and by that, I mean novice) Morristown Patch editor found himself very hungry. He had been told his options in this town of banks and restaurants were many–from , to , to , to , to .

But, sometimes, a man just wants a sandwich.

My roommate at the time, Suzanne, had a quick answer: , where Sussex Turnpike and Speedwell Avenue split. "But isn't that far," I asked. Oh, the Morristown rookie.

We made our way to the deli, where the lunch line was about four back. Like my experiences in Philadelphia at the (highly overrated) Geno's cheesesteak joint, there was a system here: one person took your order, cutting the appropriate meats and cheese, another dressed your sandwich and bagged it, a third rang you up and you were out the door. As orders were made and paid, it was obvious the system works.

And, the sandwich, a roast beef and swiss, did not disappoint. Suzanne, once we had returned to the apartment, peeled some meat off her sandwich, saying it may have been a bit much, but for my carnivorous tastes, it was perfect.

Fast forward about six months or so–or, in Patch time, a lifetime. I have since then explored many, many, many culinary options in this densely-packed town. Where I could count my dining experiences then on one hand (with change to spare), I have long since used up my fingers and toes.

On a cold day recently, though, the thought of a fancy meal, or even an attempt at a healthy meal, did not appeal to me. I wanted a sandwich.

Once again, Longfellow's Deli did not disappoint. This time, I ordered the ham, turkey and swiss, with a little mayonaise and some vinegar, lettuce, tomato, onion. A little past the lunch rush, the system still ran like a metronome, and I was in and out in minutes. A local take on "fast food."

I drove my car over to Speedwell Park, turned off the engine, opened the window and let the sun blast in as I sipped a cold tea, opened my "small" sandwich. I use quotes for "small," because I cannot imagine what the "large," or "whole" sub looks like. I have a pretty hearty appetite, but even I needed to save half of this lovely beast for a few hours later.

Once again, the meat portions were healthy (hey, something should be healthy, right?). No gloppy, pre-formed turkey mess here–this was the real thing. The ham was salty and flavorful. The cheese was just enough to taste without dominating the rest of the sandwich.

Please note: Unless you like your subs really messy, be sure to get your vinegar on the side or make sure you're starving. The portion I left for later was pretty sodden, but nevertheless tasty.

Subs in recent years have met with mainstream success, and chains are plentiful offering their own takes on the simple sandwich. But, much like pizza, here in New Jersey, our options for subs, hoagies, grinders, or whatever you want to call them, are vast. Longfellow's Deli, a long time ago, came up with a system that has brought them a rabidly loyal fanbase. Count this reviewer among them.