I thought it wasn't possible to find a genuine Philly experience on the West Coast. How wrong I was. Not only was the ""Tatstrami"" sandwich spilling over with the finest pastrami this side of the Delaware, but the guys behind the counter--who either are from Philly or hired dialect coaches--didn't give me a lick of crap for ordering it sans slaw. Even the steak fries were Just Like Home. If I were in Seattle more often, Tat's would be more than a regular stop for this East Coast transplant--it'd be a place of worship.
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