Because so many people obviously felt so passionately about cheesesteaks, I figured the next logical step would be to name five sandwiches that are better than a cheesesteak.

I consider myself something of an expert in the subject. Recently, there was a Jeopardy! category on sandwiches, and not only did I know all the answers, but I had eaten all the answers.

I worked behind a deli counter for three years, and in that time I made many, many sandwiches. I was so good at it that if I was busy and other deli-men were unoccupied, customers would wait for me like they would a particular barber at the barber shop. One time I held up a roast beef with melted mozzarella on garlic bread to ask the customer if he wanted tomatoes on it, and the whole crowd of customers gasped. That’s how beautiful my sandwiches were.

It is the only job I’ve ever had that I can confidently say I was awesome at. If you’re ever in Rockville Centre, NY, go into DeBono’s Deli on North Village Avenue and ask Jay DeBono who the best employee he ever had was. Helpful hint: It’s your boy.

So trust me on this one. These are, in no particular order, five sandwiches better than a cheesesteak:

Chicken Madness (Wisemiller’s Deli and Grocery, Washington, DC): The Chicken Madness is chicken, bacon, cheese, and hot and sweet peppers diced up fine and served on a soft hero roll. What makes it mad is Wisey’s unique blend of reddish mystery spices and the delicious, disgusting grease from their million-year-old grill. James K will back me up on this, this is one hell of a sandwich. Note that it includes chopped up meat and cheese, just like a cheesesteak. The difference is that it’s far madder, and better. It’s the second best kind of madness after Space Madness. And Wisey’s Burger Madness is really good, too.

The guitarist in my band in college was a religious Jewish guy who kept Kosher. He promised me that I could be there if he ever ate bacon. College is a time for experimenting with new substances, and eventually, the guy broke. We got Chicken Madnesses and took them back to his apartment, and, though I’m not certain he’s ever eaten bacon again, he agreed that bacon was pretty f@#$ing awesome.

Cappy Ham and Cheese (Primanti Bros., Pittsburgh, PA): “Really, Ted? Just a plain old ham and cheese?” No, you fool. Calling this thing ham and cheese is like calling King Kong a monkey. It’s less of a sandwich and more of a ridiculous cavalcade of awesome. I can’t even remember all the things that are on there, but I know that there’s cole slaw, pickles and like a full order of french fries, and you have options to get a bunch of other things on there as well. It’s absolutely baffling that the cheesesteak should be the most identifiable sandwich native to Pennsylvania when the Primantis are serving this thing up in Pittsburgh. Also, Whoopie Pies are a kind of sandwich from Pennsylvania, and they’re really delicious too.

Berg’s Pepper Barge (DeBono’s Delicatessen, Rockville Centre, NY): This was initially called “Ted’s 12-incher,” but that name was deemed inappropriate for a family deli like De Bono’s. Anyway, the Pepper Barge includes pepper turkey, the massively underrated and underused pepper ham, De Bono’s own fresh mozzarella, and some oil and balsamic vinegar on a hero. I’d throw on roasted red peppers upon request, but that’s sort of gilding the lily. This sandwich has not received the type of critical fame that the ones listed above have — in fact, there’s no record of its existence on the Internet — but believe me, it’s awesome. I should know, I invented it.

Ferdi Special (Mother’s Restaurant, New Orleans, LA): If you go to Mother’s at lunchtime, you’ll probably have to wait so long that you begin to wonder if the sandwich is worth it. But don’t fret, it is. It’s ham, roast beef, a bunch of crispy vegetablish things, and debris on french bread. The key here is the debris — that’s little pieces of roast beef that fell into the gravy while roasting. It’s amazing, and bursting with delicious meaty flavor. Be warned, though: breakfast at Mother’s is overrated, and you’ll want to save room for beignets and muffuletta (another sandwich better than cheesesteak, though one left off this list so it wasn’t an overwhelming Italian selection) and so many of the other delicious local foodstuffs.

Mama’s Special (Leo’s Latticini, Queens, NY): Mets fans — and many others — know Leo’s as Mama’s. And if you’re a Mets fan with an interest in sandwiches, you probably know about the sandwich by now. I heartily recommend heading to the source and picking one up there, though — you can customize. Make sure you get sopressata on whatever you order, though. It’s like a spicier, coarser-ground salami. It’s amazing.

As I mentioned earlier, today is Bash Philadelphia Day in the local papers.

I’ve got plenty of beef with Phillies fans, but I’m not going to rehash what’s been covered a billion times. And there are probably at least a couple of Phillies fans out there that are decent human beings, and I know plenty of people from Philadelphia have read this blog, so I’ll spare the city my vitriol.

But what gets me is the ridiculous pride over cheesesteaks. Here’s the thing about cheesesteaks:

Cheesesteaks are delicious, but I have had cheesesteaks outside of Philly that were better than the ones served at Pat’s or Geno’s. It’s not really a tough art to master: You slice steak really thin, grill it, cover it in cheese and put it on a hero.

They have decent cheesesteaks at the weird corporate food bar on the ground floor of my office building, and absolutely everything else at that place sucks.

That’s how easy it is to make cheesesteak. Almost all cheesesteaks are good because they’re filled with steak and cheese, and steak and cheese are really good.

Pizza-making is a delicate art form, and one not many have mastered. Same for bagels and knishes. I couldn’t make you any of those things to the New York standard unless I spent a whole lot of time practicing, and maybe apprenticing with good purveyors of the foodstuffs.

Cheesesteak? Give me a ride to ShopRite and 25 minutes and I’ll make you a delicious cheesesteak.

And what’s worse, places like Pat’s and Geno’s pride themselves on being rude. Awesome. So you’re entitled to act like a jackass because you’re willing to purchase Cheez Whiz in unreasonable quantities? We’re all very proud of you, guy.

And I’m supposed to revere Pat, the King of Steaks, because he invented the cheesesteak? Ooh, meat and cheese on bread. What a brilliant innovation! Who would have thought of that if you hadn’t, Pat? Oh, that’s right, the cheeseburger guy. Also the burrito guy, technically. And probably Bobby Valentine too if no one else got to it first.

Color me unimpressed. I’ll gladly eat your cheesesteak, but please don’t try to pass it off as a regional delicacy. Call me when you can make a knish.

As you may have noticed, it was impossible to comment on this here blog over the last two days. I didn’t notice this, and I was pretty baffled since I was having some of my best traffic days and no one was commenting on anything.

I thought maybe, for no apparent reason, everybody just ran out of things to say.

I have no idea what happened, but I wholeheartedly blame Cerrone.

Anyway, I have restored the comments to the way they were, so anyone with an email address can comment. I recognize that allowing unregistered users to comment represents an uncharacteristic faith in humanity on my part, so I do reserve the right to change that policy should this blog ever get all Godwin’s Law.

So as you’ve probably figured out, I’m still figuring this out.

Chris asked what the “Eddy Curry Fat” wheel in the header photo is about. It’s from the following episode of The Nooner, from when SNY’s Studio B was under construction, and highlighted by an unbelievable and scene-stealing turn by former SNY.tv digital sales dude Joey Pops:

As you can see, I really needed a haircut. The next day I appeared in another episode, one that no one but me has ever found funny:

I planned on checking out some of Westchester’s ample and beautiful bike trails today, but it’s 43 degrees and raining here, so I’ll have to sit inside, watch football and eat Buffalo wings all day.

What a pity.

The single greatest thing about being an American, I think, and probably the only thing that reliably makes me feel patriotic, is the confluence of Buffalo wings and football. It is, without a doubt, a synergistic relationship. Both things are independently amazing, but together, they’re Biblically awesome.

One of the millions of fascinating things about Buffalo wings is that they’re one of the few spicy foods invented in a cool-weather climate. Traditionally, our spiciest (and often best) foods come from hot places. Think Mexico, Thailand and Jamaica.

I’m guessing this is because meat spoils faster in hotter temperatures, and so historically, spices were used both to preserve the meat and mask less-than-fresh flavor. I have no evidence of that, of course, but it seems to make a lot of sense. Plus hot peppers grow in warm climates.

But Buffalo wings come from Buffalo, which is a cold place. According to legend, they were first served at Anchor Bar in Buffalo and from what I understand, before they were first served at Anchor Bar, people didn’t even eat chicken wings at all. They were used only for soup stock.

Each member of the Bellissimos, the family that owns Anchor Bar, tells a different Buffalo wing creation myth. That’s another interesting thing about the Buffalo wing, I guess. I’ve been to Anchor Bar and eaten they’re wings, and they’re pretty good. Not the best wings I’ve ever had, but tasty enough to make me believe that they could start the wonderful trend that has since consumed the country.

The most interesting thing about Buffalo wings, of course, is how ridiculously delicious they are. And football is upon us, so I have to stop writing about Buffalo wings and start consuming Buffalo wings.

The purpose of this post, though, was to give a shoutout to the best wings I’ve found so far in the Westchester area. One of the saddest parts of leaving Brooklyn, for me, was leaving behind the amazing Wing Wagon on Flatbush and 7th Ave. in my old neighborhood of Prospect Heights.

But I was lucky enough to stumble upon So Dam Hot last week, and it proved to be a worthy successor to the throne of Local Place that Provides Me Delicious Buffalo Wings.

Also, it’s in Valhalla, which means every time I go there I get Led Zeppelin’s “Immigrant Song” in my head. So that’s an added bonus.

I know I promised no more than one non-sports post a day, but I don’t think this constitutes breaking that promise. This horrifying bit of news is entirely connected to sports:

The price of  chicken wings is skyrocketing.

More on this will certainly follow in the coming days, but I must now go to ShopRite to start hording. I recommend you do the same. Boneless wings are not wings.