I ate a bad sandwich from a good restaurant on Friday night. I was going to write about it, since I figured at the very least it would shut Russ up about all the sandwiches being rated in the 80s.

But I realized a couple things: I liked the place and the people there seemed friendly, plus all the other food I had was good, so I’m not eager to rip it in print. Second, Sandwich of the Week is to revere the greatness of sandwiches, not lament their shortcomings.

So I went out Sunday and found a sandwich worth celebrating.

The sandwich: Chili Cheese Dog from Hubba, nee Pat’s Hubba Hubba, nee Texas Quick Lunch on Main St. in Port Chester, N.Y.

The construction: A hot dog split lengthwise and grilled with chili and American cheese on a hot dog bun. I added ketchup.

Important background information: Hubba is a tiny storefront on a main drag in Port Chester, a cramped space consisting only of a long counter with about 10 stools. The walls are papered in bills, most of them American dollars, many of them marked on.

I understand Hubba’s is a popular late-night spot, but there was only one party there when I entered and I’m pretty certain it included Tim Teufel. That is to say I saw Tim Teufel and his family eating at Hubba. (Should I not write this? Is this too TMZish?) I didn’t say anything; the last thing I want to do is bother Teufel while he’s enjoying greasy, chili-smothered food with his family. But then I realized I’ve actually spoken to Teufel on multiple occasions and there was some reasonable chance he recognized me.

That made me feel a little uncomfortable. I didn’t want to insult Teufel’s intelligence by assuming he didn’t remember me, but at the same time I recognize Tim Teufel probably meets a fair share of reporters and that I probably resemble any old schmo who might be alone in a greasy spoon on a Sunday afternoon, waiting on a chili-cheese dog. And there was some chance it was just some guy who looks a lot like Teufel, since Teufel’s not exactly Gheorghe Muresan in terms of distinctiveness of appearance.

Because the thought of sitting down next to Teufel — remember it’s a small place so there weren’t any other seating options — and either acknowledging him or not acknowledging him was too awkward to handle, I scrapped plans to eat in Hubba and placed my order to go. Then I stood and tried to estimate how many dollars were on the walls and ceiling. I figure it’s about a couple thousand.

Then I thought, wait a sec, Tim Teufel was on the ’86 Mets. No way a world champion should be paying for his own chili dog. Isn’t that part of the deal? My understanding is you win the World Series and everything you ever eat within a 50-mile radius of the home stadium is free. That seems reasonable, at least.

But by this point I had already paid for my order and the guy was putting my food in a bag, and plus I had no idea how to smoothly offer to pay for Tim Teufel’s meal (without paying for the rest of his party, because if Teufel’s wife wanted a free hot dog she could have gone 4-for-9 with a homer in a World Series too). So I bailed and went to chow down in my car.

Incidentally, if you had told me five years ago that in 2011 I would spot Tim Teufel in a hole-in-the-wall hot dog place and it would prompt professional awkwardness, I would have marked you as a crazy person.

What it looks like:

How it tastes: It’s a chili-cheese dog, for sure. And that’s obviously a good thing.

The chili is the highlight. It’s pretty much just ground beef, grease and really finely chopped hot peppers, with some seasoning that turns the grease orange the way it is when you make tacos at home with one of those kits. It’s got a good bit of spice to it, and because there are no beans and the peppers are cut so small it essentially has a consistent texture, which makes it a good topping.

The cheese tastes like American cheese. Obviously it complements the chili and hot dog well, because, you know, chili cheese dog.

As for the wiener: Splitting hot dogs lengthwise and grilling them seems to be a Westchester thing, and it’s one I appreciate. It usually — or at least it is intended to — give the hot dog a little more snap, a quality which, to me, separates the great hot dogs from the bad and the merely OK.

At Hubba, though, the dog itself is a bit soft, even after grilling. It’s not bad — the flavor is good and appropriately hot-doggy — it just doesn’t have much crunch to it.

With the ketchup adding sweetness, the salty hot dog and the spicy chili and creamy cheese combined to provide a pretty excellent array of flavors in each bite. This is a very good sandwich, even by chili-cheese dog standards.

What it’s worth: Super cheap. It’s not a ton of food, mind you, but the chili-cheese dog and a decent-sized order of fries ran me only $5. Not sure how it broke down, to be honest.

How it rates: 77 out of 100. This is a tasty sandwich, but for something as straightforward as a chili cheese dog to reach Hall of Fame or near-Hall of Fame levels it would have to far exceed my already high standards for chili cheese dogs with near-perfect execution. And that means a snappier hot dog. Still delicious and certainly a meal worthy of a world champion Met, but it didn’t do enough to distinguish itself from other great chili cheese dogs I’ve had. In other words: Call me when you’re Ben’s Chili Bowl.