Et Tu, Jimmy?

(Mister Takeout can be found on Twitter @mistertakeout and on FB as John Q Takeout)

Here's what Jimmy John's promises on their menu:

"All of my tasty sub sandwiches are a full 8 inches of homemade french bread, fresh veggies and the finest meats and cheese I can buy! And if it matters to you, we slice everything fresh everyday in this store, right here where you can see it. (No mystery meat here!)"

All that and an unforgettable name too. You can't say it just once. Jimmy John's. JEEEmy John's. Jimmy JOHN'S. JJ's. The big double J. It’s been at least a year since I’ve snagged some takeout at the J-MAN, but something about the Monday vibe and a touch of nostalgia for a former sammich-loving colleague got me off my big behind and on my way to W. Division.

Today's Takeout Lunch Establishment

Jimmy John’s

51 W Division St (between N Dearborn and N Clark)

Chicago, IL

312-482-8176

The Order

#1 Pepe (real applewood smoked ham and provolone cheese garnished with lettuce, tomato, and mayo.)

$5.76 with tax

The Wait

It was one of those Mondays, so I didn’t get to Jammy-Jay’s until about 1:30. And the place was as empty as my stomach. I was stunned. Obviously the lunch rush was long over, but I’ve never, ever, EVER seen Jimmy John’s empty. Nobody at the little tables. Nobody in line. Nobody waiting in over in that uncomfortable little corner by the drink machine for their order to come up. You'd think this would mean a short wait and fast service, but I waited almost ten minutes for my order. I couldn't help feeling just a little sad.

RATING: 6


The Presentation

One of the things I’ve always loved about Jimmy John’s is the guys they hire to make the sandwiches. Young, pierced, tattooed men and women of all colors and creeds with smiles on their faces and a spring in their step. That’s the presentation there – the wax paper and masking tape the sandwich itself comes in doesn’t do a thing for the food one way or the other. If I was feeling a little sad earlier, though, it quickly turned to disgust after I placed my order. A single surly sandwich slinger with grime under his fingernails, crumbs in his beard and a wrinkled, condiment-encrusted shirt “sliced everything fresh” for me. I wish he hadn’t.

RATING: 2


The Food Itself

My appetite almost gone by this point, I gingerly unwrapped my #1 Pepe with real applewood smoked ham and provolone cheese at my desk and sighed in disappointment. The bread was smashed flat, soaked through with mayo and barely able to do its job of holding the sandwich together as I took my first bite. I don’t know what passes for “…fresh veggies and the finest meats and cheese I can buy” at Jimmy John’s these days, but the tasteless pink tomatoes and brown lettuce snuffed out whatever applewood smoked flavor might have been left in the ham. Did I cry just a little as I swallowed? Only my keyboard and I will ever know for sure.

RATING: 1

Jimmy John’s, you’ve broken my heart. To paraphrase your menu, it matters to me. I’ve had a lot of good sandwiches with a lot of good friends and colleagues at conference room tables an inside your little hole in the wall on W Division. But those days are gone. No more nicknames. No more nostalgia. No more sammiches with vegetarian colleagues.

OVERALL RATING: 3