Toasted Italian hoagie at Mother Clucker’s

A hoagie is not a sandwich that went to college. It is a sandwich that knows what it is doing.

Ours start with the Italian: freshly sliced pepperoni, salami, and pastrami, mozzarella, mayonnaise, lettuce, tomato, onion, Italian dressing. Fresh or toasted. That last choice is the whole personality test. Fresh is a picnic. Toasted is a commitment. I am a toasted person. Dion will tell you I am a toasted person about more than hoagies.

The turkey hoagie is the same architecture with turkey if you want the building without the pepperoni conversation. You can build your own. People do. People also stare at the board, order the Italian toasted, and look relieved that the decision ended.

This is the lunch that walks back toward the Convention Center in a bag and still tastes like lunch when you get there. It is also the 11 p.m. order from someone who already ate pizza this week and needs to feel like they made a vegetable choice. The lettuce is doing its best.

I have worked enough line shifts to know a hoagie is only as good as the bread and the ratio. Too much dressing and you are wearing it. Too little and you have cold cuts in a tunnel. We aim for the version you have to lean over.

If you are feeding a table, we do trays. If you are feeding yourself, get the toasted Italian and a side and sit down for twenty minutes like a person. Loring Park will still be there when you finish.

— Sam