Sometimes, when I’m speaking to friends about my food adventures, they seem to think I’m only about tweezer food, molecular gastronomy, and expensive restaurants. And since any new friends I made during the Nebula Awards weekend might have encountered my previous post about Morcilla as their first entry point into my life, I figured I’d better quickly prove that’s just not so, and describe the sandwich I ate many hours after the banquet, at 2:30 a.m. on Saturday night Sunday morning at Primanti’s.

Though Primanti’s is today a chain which includes locations in Indiana, Maryland, Michigan, and other states, the company began with a single restaurant in Pittsburgh in 1933. Not too long after that, it developed its signature way of serving sandwiches—with the french fries and cold slaw in the sandwich. That style is so much a part of Primanti’s I can recall what a server there said when asked in a video interview how they’d respond to a customer if one asked for the fries on the side—she’d tell them there was a Subway down the street.

Perhaps I’m misremembering, and that’s apocryphal, but Primanti’s commitment to keeping what’s normally outside inside has resulted in one of the most famous sandwiches in the U.S. So I had to have one.

I had to have one at the original Pittsburgh location, which is open 24 hours a day, seven days a week.

And I had to have one not at a standard meal time, but late. Or depending on how you consider time, early.

Which is how I ended up with a group of friends, including Andrea Tatjana and K. M. Szpara, at 2:30 in the morning, still wearing the purple jacket I’d worn to the Nebula banquet.

Getting to that table, however, wasn’t the most relaxing trip I’ve ever taken.

First, as we drove near to the 18th Street location, the clubs were just beginning to let out, and the crowded streets were filled with drivers zooming around us who didn’t seem to understand the laws of physics or appear quite in control of their faculties. I’m still surprised we made it to the Primanti’s parking lot without getting into an accident.

And once we did park, what’s the first thing we saw? A guy stumbling out of the restaurant, leaning against a side wall, and throwing up as a friend comforted him. What a waste of a sandwich!

Then, once we were seated inside, I’m told that behind me, one patron threw ketchup on another, and both were ushered out into the night, in an incident over and done before I could turn around.

Not the most auspicious welcome!

Yes, I wanted to see Primanti’s when it was filled with locals rather than tourists, but what, I’d thought, had we gotten ourselves into?

But …

… what about the sandwiches?

Ah, the sandwiches.

I ordered the most traditional of the sandwiches I knew—with capicola, cheese, and a runny egg. And, as you can see above, those french fries.

Even though I’d been at the Nebula banquet just a few hours earlier, I was hungry, both because I’d skipped most of my meal in expectations of heading to Primanti’s, but also because the entree I’d been served had been pretty much inedible anyway. So, yes, I ate the whole thing. And liked it. There was a nice kick to both the capicola and, surprisingly, the cole slaw. Plus there’s something about having the french fries inside the sandwich that’s comforting.

Sarah Pinsker, who you see attempting to behind hers, ordered the egg and cheese.

Would I eat another Primanti’s sandwich? Yes, I would.

But—would I eat another Primanti’s sandwich at 2:30 in the morning? No, thanks!

I believe that from now on, I’ll stick to inhaling huge sandwiches during daylight hours only. The late-night ambiance was a little too sketchy for me. I don’t at all regret having done it once, though, especially when accompanied by such a fun group.

However, if I’m hungry at 2:30 in the morning next year when the Nebula Awards weekend return to Pittsburgh, I think I’ll be hitting Ritter’s Diner. Who’ll join me?