The loaf aquatic

A great philosopher once said, “Anything good in life is either illegal, immoral, expensive or fattening.” It is a theory I have subscribed to for most of my life until very recently, when I discovered the healing properties of yoga during a trip to Boracay, where my wife and I underwent a mind, body, and soul-healing detoxification treatment program at a tranquil, tucked-away oasis known as Mandala. It was a profoundly peaceful experience I am currently writing about and will be published at length at a later date... While it is true that some may classify their offered service as “expensive,” the concept and essence of yoga itself is not — and that was a welcome and cleansing thing to me... But to my joyful surprise there was another discovery on the island that was indeed very good and neither illegal, immoral, expensive or fattening — a kitschy new sandwich shop in the main artery of D’Mall (the one that connects Budget Mart to the central Ferris wheel) called the Super Submarine Sandwich Shop.

You can’t miss it; if you do you’re either blind, stupid, or both, because it is probably the brightest and glossiest little shop on that main walkway. The concept is simple, clever and effective: a submarine sandwich shop — something the island and perhaps even the country is deficient of — clearly differentiated from the mass-produced homogeneity of Subway and inspired by the most famous song ever written about a submarine. If you’re not only blind and stupid but also deaf, Yellow Submarine is a popular 1968 Beatles song about a cartoon sub, and the shop looks like a cross-section of it. It is unrepentantly yellow and will stop you in your tracks whether you like sandwiches or not, thanks mostly to the shop’s mascot, an expertly sculpted life-size cartoon dude in a diving bell known as the “happy diver.” He wears a “Have a nice day” smile, which is conveniently an icon of yellowness, carries a sign that reads the special of the month, and could be mistaken for an astronaut from a peyote vision. Whatever hallucinogen inspired its creation, it has become the most popular photo-op spot in D’Mall.

So the happy diver catches our attention, my daughters waiting for it to move, then we are helplessly drawn in by the cutesy, balloony, cartoony yellow submarine on the façade next to the circular logo, which is catchy enough to branch out and franchise. We walk into the submarine, portholes and stools on one side, the sandwich assembly counter on the other. Now comes the good part.

Super Submarine Sandwich Shop: You can’t miss it; if you do, you’re either blind, stupid, or both, because it is probably the brightest and glossiest little shop on that main walkway.

The ordering process is as simple as a Beatles riff, which is exactly what you want in a small shop like this: easy access; what do you think made the In-and-Out Burger a huge success? You’re in, you’re out, you’re happy — call it a lunchtime quickie if the term “fast food” turns you off. There are three choices of bread rolls: Italian, honey oat, or plain. These are the vessels (or submarines) for the fillings, which are divided into two categories: Deluxe and Premium. Deluxe sandwiches cost a very reasonable P155 for an adequate six-incher, while the Premium subs are 40 bucks more. If you’re feeling virile and need a sandwich that’s twice the size, then cough up an extra C-note and you’re good to go. I’m used to the torpedo-sized subs from the Bay Area where I lived for 10 years so ordering a ruler-length sandwich did not require much mental debate; it’s the fillings, which all sounded good, that took a moment or two to select.

Each category has six choices: The Deluxe fillings include what appears to be their signature cold cut, a pork and beef meat called Pepperoni Lyoner made with spices and dried red and green bell peppers. Bacon, ham, tuna and chicken salad, and a veggie sub all fall under the Deluxe menu. The Premium offerings consist of salami, roast beef and turkey plus three combination subs: the Pepperoni Lyoner and salami Italian, the chicken salad and bacon Club Sub, and the best-selling salami, Pepperoni Lyoner, and ham Super Sub. All sandwiches come with generous slices of Dutch Gouda cheese and fresh produce fixings, olives, and Jalapeño peppers. Wait, I’m not done; there are also dressings to flavor your sub with a douse of zang before you dive into it.

Of course I took delivery of the top-of-the-line model, the foot-long honey oat roll Super Sub, mainly because I was intrigued by Pepperoni Lyoner, which had yuletide-colored specks peppered all over it. While I don’t necessarily crave spicy sandwiches, I do need a minimum amount of spice in a sub, whether it comes from garlic or any variety of pepper, and my sandwich did not disappoint in this criteria. Between the spices in the salami, the peppers in the Lyoner, the ground pepper in the dressing, and the Jalapeños, my sub had just the right amount of spice in it, just enough to be friendly to customers who don’t like spicy food, just enough to be considered exciting in flavor, and just enough to compel you to take another bite, and another, and another, and another... Before I knew it I was stalking my wife’s order.

In the spectrum of submarine sandwich superiority there is Subway on one end and the small, single-branch, mom-and-pop shops scattered across the United States on the other. These places have no fancy signage, do not franchise, and whether they prepare subs, hoagies, heroes, grinders, or po’ boys, they do so more for love than money. An example of this is a place I used to frequent in my neighborhood in San Francisco — a shop called Little Lucca, run by three old Italian ladies who couldn’t give a meatball about how much they weighed. Another example is the Submarine Center in West Portal. 

Somewhere on the upper half of the spectrum exist places like Mr. Pickle (also from the Bay Area), which do have mascots and franchises and branches all over the place but are infinitely much better than a Subway. While Freddie and Karen Elizalde’s Super Submarine Sandwich Shop may not be at Mr. Pickle’s level just yet, it is leaps and bounds better than the mediocrity of Subway, or even a Togo’s or Quiznos. I’ll take one of quadruple S’s subs over Subway any day of the week and twice on Sundays because their sandwiches are meatier, tastier, and spicier.  

So before I weave off course, I’ll slam the door on this column knowing that I’ve made my point. What can I say? I take my food seriously, even if it’s a hole-in-the-wall sandwich shop. And from my experience eating in what is ostensibly Boracay’s best and only sub shop, Freddie and Karen do, too.