Metro Pulse/Restaruant Rover/Lenny's Sub Shop

Lenny's Sub Shop
4620 Kingston Pike, Suite 4622
766-0724
Other locations at 9335 Kingston Pike #A-4, 769-8555 and 2901 E. Tazewell Pike, 688-6177

by Connie Seuer

Raised in a small, southern town as I was, my early exposure to good sub shops was most certainly limited. There were no neighborhood delis, no "institutions" of sandwich notoriety. In fact, the most exotic cheeses and meats that entered the house were baby Swiss and chipped ham. Mind you, there's nothing wrong with baby Swiss and chipped ham, but come on, the world is a wonderfully big place with so much more variety to offer.

Then came the town's first true, submarine sandwich shop. It had a guy's name that I'd never heard, and the whole process of the sandwich maker practicing his craft to your particular order seemed a grand idea to a sheltered southern youngster. It was after a long morning of yard work and a trip to the hardware store that Dad said, "Ready for some lunch?" Of course I was. "Let's try that new sandwich place, what do you think?" I thought yes.

Admittedly, I didn't know what to make of the names of the subs, and I sheepishly followed my father's lead in ordering. What was prepared was huge, was salty, was tall and layered and a memorable experience that despite my stomach's fullness left me plotting my next visit. Obviously, my dad's sandwich was just as inspiring, as trips to the sub shop became our regular weekend sneak-away. And once mom figured us out, we were taking subs to-go home for her lunch as well.

When a new place with a guy's name appeared in the second-wave of Kingston Pike Center, I was curious, but figured it to be like most sub shops—average. Then, déj� vu—after working on the house all morning and stopping at Parker Brothers Hardware, Heinrich hinted, "What do you think about lunch?" I paused for a moment, "I think there's a sandwich place I'd like to try. Lenny's." He was—at the thought of a Dagwood special—quite amenable.

Honestly, I can't quite recall what we ordered that first time around. But I do remember that we were both astonished at the crew—they were the nicest guys we've ever met behind a counter. Friendly without being cloying and genuinely interested in making sure we were happy with our food. They came by the table repeatedly to refill drinks and check on our satisfaction. With a bases-covered menu, sandwiches the size of your head (and those are regular, not large), and a deli-wide ethic of "just be nice," Lenny's was way beyond average.

Our subsequent visits have allowed us to cover a lot of ground. The Italian sub ($5.15/$7.75) is one of the best, layered with cool provolone and the salty staples of ham (not chipped), prosciutto, Genoa salami, and capicola. You pick your bread, either wheat or white, and the fixins' (unless you 86 'em) come with all subs—onions, lettuce, tomato, salt, pepper, oregano, oil, pickles, and hot peppers. The make of the Italian is ideal for prosciutto lovers, as this cured pork dominates the sandwiches' flavor. The regular sub ($4.15/$6.75) is a bit simpler, with capicola, ham, and provolone, and ranks as Heinrich's favorite cold sub.

The veggie sub ($3.95/$6.55) is available, if you must, and Lenny's doesn't scrimp on any of the ingredients—from the provolone and Swiss to the piles of crisp lettuce, onions, and green peppers, all the way to the taste-filled tomaters. But if trying to go light on the cured meats, I favor the tuna sub ($4.85/$7.45). Lenny's has the tuna blend figured out. Where most places pile on the mayo, they know just a dab'll do ya, letting the chunky fish and petite half-moons of celery show off their picnic-y flavors.

The favorite of all favorites though must be an honor bestowed upon the Philly cheese- steak ($5.15/$7.85). Dense with ruffled layers of thin roast beef, cooked up hot and juicy with grilled white onions, then melted together with provolone cheese, this is an enormous and forget-your-waistline kind of sub. We were both wooed by the sandwich, Heinrich going so far as to call it the "best I've had outside Philadelphia." As I said before, Lenny's sandwiches are big, but let me put it another way. If there's anyone out there who can eat a large, Lenny's Philly cheesesteak, I'll not only be impressed, I'll be afraid.

You'll want to select a bag of chips ($.85), large soft drink ($1.25), and a cookie ($.85) to round out the meal. The chocolate chip cookies usually rate well, being moist and buttery almost every time.

What surprises me most about Lenny's is that it's a franchise, with more than 26 stores across several states. This comes as a shocker, because the place is so personable and simple, not the standard characteristics of a chain. As I noted, Heinrich and I have made Lenny's a frequent Saturday afternoon pit stop. Work on the house, go to the hardware store, grab lunch at Lenny's. What could be sweeter?