Whether to add cheese was my only doubt in placing my order last night for a French dip at Carmody’s Grille on Neville Island. Not that the extra buck would have broken the bank, but… might it be overkill to introduce molten dairy elements to a gooey mix of beef, broth and bread?
The server’s pro-cheese insistence did me a service in any case. First, because it clearly elevated the tasting experience, but also because it qualified (however loosely) my order as a cheese sandwich, and as such presented an opening of sorts to this column I’m now on the hook for.
Let me explain. Back when I wrote for this paper’s previous incarnation, the political circles in McKees Rocks had a lingering air of the rough-and-ready about them. And key to that was a certain now-shuttered store where the in crowd would hold court and where, rumor had it, requesting a “cheese sandwich” would admit you to a smokey backroom abuzz with low-stakes card games and such.
Whether or not there was any truth to this, we got a lot of comical mileage out of it in our battered old Broadway newsroom, and somehow a “cheese sandwich” (any food really) became a currency of sorts in a local media economy where a free lunch from your boss could be received as a gratifying stand-in for a company car or a pension. In any case, Sonja promised me a cheese sandwich for writing this, so here we are.
I’m not sure I have much to say about the French dip at Carmody’s, other than it’s frankly very good. The bread is light and crusty, the beef generous, tender and marbled with just enough fat to give flavor and texture without coming over all gristly. The dip? Well, it honorably discharged its moistening duties, and it seemed to have the right amount of salt. The friend I dragged along is a home baker and something of a foodie, and he agreed with all this. I guess I’ll add for journalistic balance that the accompanying fries were solid but unremarkable.
You’ve probably gathered by now I’m not much of a food critic, so I won’t bore you in this and future dispatches with indulgent descriptions of “succulent rose-soaked sea bass conveying hints of pine and burnt almond etc.” Instead I’ll dash around the West Hills enjoying hearty dinners and asking questions such as…
What is a French dip anyway? Well I’m glad you asked.
The one thing its chroniclers agree on is that it’s not French — that is to say it’s Californian. Although, its creator may have been of French provenance depending on which version you subscribe to. And it may have begun as a pork sandwich before evolving to roast beef? Whatever the origin story, if it’s done well I can confirm it makes a satisfying meal paired with fries and a pint of Smithwick’s red ale.
Returning to Carmody’s, it’s worth saying of this unassuming Neville Island joint that what I’ve sampled of the other menu items hold up equally. It’s a little pricier than comparable local options, but rest assured you’re getting something a cut above standard-issue bar food in a pleasant environment aided by attentive staff.
Have I found the perfect cheese sandwich? Well, it wouldn’t be much fun to pronounce a winner right at the outset — besides, I haven’t yet tried their grilled cheese on Texas toast. I guess I’ll be back.
Carmody’s Grille is located at 4905 Grand Ave. on Neville Island. Hours are Monday through Thursday from 11 a.m. to 9 p.m. with kitchen bar open until 10 p.m. On Fridays and Saturdays hours are 11 a.m. to 10 p.m. with kitchen bar open until midnight.
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