Philadelphia Hoagies & Seafood

Italian Hoagie from Pastificio Deli in South Philly

I love seafood.  Love it.  I'm coming up on 15 years of writing this blog, and I hope my passion for seafood and oysters has been aptly communicated in that time.  However, my absolute favorite meal is an Italian hoagie.  You may know it as a sub, a grinder, a wedge, just an Italian, or any number of other names.  Y'all are my heroes, but to me, it's a hoagie.  It's the thing I missed the most while living in San Francisco.  Since returning to Philadelphia, I've been making up for lost time, eating some of the best sandwiches in America.  Don't get me wrong, there are plenty of great sandwiches in the Bay Area and all over the country.  Pastrami on rye in New York, Cubanos in Miami, Po' boys in New Orleans, Italian Beefs in Chicago.  I still believe the fish sandwich is due its proper time in the national spotlight.  However, no place does sandwiches quite like the City of Brotherly Love.  I'll admit I'm biased towards many of the region's culinary creations.  But maybe there's a reason Philadelphia is consistently named the best sandwich city in the States.  And maybe there's a reason the hoagie, not the cheesesteak, is the Official Sandwich of Philadelphia.  And maybe, just maybe, that's because the Philadelphia Italian hoagie is the best sandwich in the country.  Yep, shots fired.  Come at me.

With such a bold claim, it's only appropriate for a little more detail.  Surely you've come across the classic Americanized Italian sandwich in one form or another.  Deli meats like ham, prosciutto, capicola, and salami piled on bread, most often a torpedo or sub roll, paired with cheese, lettuce, tomato, and onion.  It's typically dressed with some sort of condiment.  Oil and vinegar, pepper relish, Italian dressing, and for the blasphemers, mustard or mayo.  They're made all over the world.  Subway is the largest fast food chain on the planet with over 37,000 stores in 100 countries, serving its Spicy Italian or Italian BMT in most locations.  Unfortunately, Subway's v-cut quality days of the '90s are long gone, and now it's so shit even Steph Curry couldn't save it.  But respect for spreading sub familiarity far and wide.

Subway's "Hotshot Italiano"
Not sure if it is, but sounds kind of racist

Identifying the point of origin for the Italian-American sandwich is a fool's errand.  Countless regions across every state in the Northeast have their claimants, and they're possibly all right.  Placing meat on bread with fixins isn't exactly rocket surgery.  It's likely a few of them did this autonomously with some Old World culinary reference.  Philadelphia and the surrounding counties have their own competing candidates in DiCoztanza's, Emil's, and others.  What's largely agreed upon is that industrialization and urbanization of the late 19th and early 20th century shifted the way people in the US ate.  For decades prior, the US workforce was primarily agrarian.  Farmers grew a lot of their own food and could pause for meals throughout the day.  However, as the workforce shifted to manufacturing, laborers needed to purchase their food and often entire meals.  At the same time, Italian immigrants began opening Italian grocers in cities all across the Eastern Seaboard.  These markets sold bread, cheese, and antipasto.  With these naturally paired items on hand and busy laborers demanding economical meals on the go, it's no wonder the Italian sandwich gradually, perhaps even independently, rose to prominence in nearly every city in the Eastern US. 

A History of Philadelphia Sandwiches

Beyond being the best, the only real difference between the Philadelphia hoagie and other regional iterations is titular.  There are slight ingredient and execution differences between the sub, zep, spuckie, grinder, hero, etc., even hoagie to hoagie.  However, none are more notable than the name variations themselves.  While the etymology of "submarine sandwich," as it's most commonly known nationally, is relatively straightforward (emphasis on the relatively), the origins of the term "hoagie" are a bit more hazy.  No single resource I've found breaks this down better than Mike Madaio's A History of Philadelphia Sandwiches.  The majority of the following came directly from his chapter on hoagies, and I highly recommend purchasing the book to read in its entirety.    

There are a number of theories around the hoagie, many of which don't hold much weight when scrutinized.  However, two things seem certain.  One, the word is not as old as we'd like to believe.  It doesn't appear in text until 1946, and even then it's sporadic until the '50s.  Two, it's derived from the word "hoggie," "hoggy," or "hogie," as written references to the sandwich with these names began in 1940.  These simple points actually rule out a number of mainstream theories.

Philadelphia Hoagie Guide by Hawk Krall

1. It's named after the famous musician and actor Hoagy Carmichael.  The homophonic relationship is undeniable.  However, Carmichael's celebrity wasn't truly at its peak until the late '40s and early '50s, making the connection unlikely.  More evidential, we know hoagie stems from hoggie, and Hoagy's got nothing to do with hoggies.  
   
   
2. It comes from early 20th century street vendors called hokey pokey men.  At the start of the 20th century, street vendors known as hokey pokey men were regular fixtures in Western cities including London, Liverpool, New York and, of course, Philadelphia.  Some claim these vendors sold Italian sandwiches, which became knowns as hokeys and eventually hoagies.  However, records show hokey pokey men were almost exclusively known for selling ice cream, no more, no less.  And again, hoagie came from hoggie, making the connection even less plausible.    
   
   
3. It stems from a phrase meaning poverty-stricken - "one the hoke."  Philadelphia grocers, particularly during the Great Depression, would hand out leftover bread, meat scraps, and veggies to locals down on their luck.  Being in dire financial straits was colloquially known as being "on the hoke."  The resulting sandwich became known as a hokie and eventually a hoagie.  I like this one, especially due to its impetus from kindness and parallels to the po'boy.  However, yet again, there is no written record of the sandwich being called a hokie, and "on the hoke" certainly didn't lead to hoggie.
   
   
4. It's named after shipyard laborers or their meals at Hog Island.  Probably the most popular theory.  In 1917, the U.S. Government contracted a shipyard at Hog Island (the modern PHI airport) as part of the WWI effort.  It was the largest shipyard in the world at the time, employing thousands.  Either the laborers themselves or the sandwiches they ate became known as hoggies, eventually leading to hoagies.  Finally, a theory with hoggie to hoagie.  However, the Hog Island shipyard was shuttered in 1921, and we don't see hoggie in writing until 1940.  It's possible it stemmed from here, but unlikely given the time gap.  That would be like us not having written record of McGriddles until 2023.  

Unfortunately, the most plausible story is far from the most enchanting.  In the late '20s, jazz musician Al De Palma saw people eating large Italian sandwiches around Philadelphia.  Stunned by the size and heft of the sandwiches, he thought "man, you'd need to be a hog to eat one of those."  A decade later in the midst of the Great Depression and unable to find work as a musician, De Palma opened a sandwich shop.  Italian sandwiches were already common place by then.  The rise of the supermarket forced many local grocers to shift, and sandwich making was an accessible, low-cost startup.  We still see the legacy of this shift today with the ubiquity of corner hoagie shops all over the region.  De Palma of course sold Italian sandwiches; however, he decided to label his as hoggies.  Within a few years, his sandwiches were the talk of the town.  Hoggie worked its way into the Philadelphia lexicon, becoming the standard designation for Italian sandwiches, and De Palma became the self-proclaimed King of Hoggies.  And if you're at all familiar with the Philadelphia accent, it's no shock that the hoggie quickly became the hoagie we enjoy today. 

 

Al De Palma and his hoggie assembly line - Philadelphia Inquirer

So, why is the once-hoggie-now-hoagie better than any other regional Italian sandwich?  There's no secret sauce, ingredient, or technique to a Philadelphia hoagie.  The components are much the same as any other.  In reality, it's a bit of a self-fulfilling prophecy.  Upon moving here a few decades ago, now-celebrated Philadelphia food critic Craig LaBan lamented that there was no great pizza.  He soon realized it wasn't from a lack of talent or resources, but rather that everyone was focused on making great sandwiches.  Philadelphians are fanatics about their sandwiches, and local purveyors respond in kind with the best ingredients, craft, and understanding of tradition.  With such a foundation, it's not hard to produce the best sandwich in the country.

Niland's Seafood Muffuletta

Hoagie history and veneration is fun, but making an Italian hoagie with seafood was the true goal of this post.  "Seafood hoagies" exist, such as the Little Fish's floagie or Honeysuckle Provisions' Friday fish hoagie.  Po'boys are arguably seafood hoagies.  But I wanted to go full ham, literally, using all seafood charcuterie.  Cured or preserved fish served in sandwich format is nothing new.  Lox, pickled herring, smoked trout, whitefish salad, and canned tuna are longstanding sandwich staples.  Nobody would classify those as deli meats, though.  Japanese items like surimi and kamoboko come closer in style and texture, but are rarely seen utilized in sandwich format.  However, over the last few years, the preserved seafood landscape has dipped into classic sliced meats.  Swordfish bacon, salmon pastrami, lobster lunch meat.  Josh Niland, notable Australian chef of "#FishAsMeat" fame, even makes a muffuletta consisting of albacore tuna 'nduja, ocean trout salami, and kingfish mortadella.  Dude's already a legend in my mind, but this struck a new chord.  With plenty of fishpiration, I set off on my seafood hoagie adventure.  Wooooo!  Gonna make some aquatic cold cuts!

A point of contention in the Philadelphia area is exactly what meats make up the proper Italian hoagie.  There's a wide array of Italian and Italian-American cold cuts, all of which have likely made their way onto a hoagie at some point.  The one thing that seems to be loosely agreed upon is that an Italian hoagie requires three different meats.  Within those meats, I believe the best results are achieved with a complimentary diversity.  There is some crossover and interchangeability here, but a good guide is:

• A classic cooked and / or cured meat like Italian ham, capicola / coppa / gabagool, or prosciutto cotto.  This comprises the bulk of the sandwich, adding heft and meatiness.  It should be in a 2 to 1 to 1 ratio with the other cuts.
• A fermented and / or supplemental cured meat, such as genoa salami, pepperoni, soppressata, speck, or prosciutto di parma.  This contributes tooth and texture, as well as additional flavor in tang and spice.
• An emulsified or fatty meat, like mortadella, bologna, cotechino, even 'nduja or lardo.  This brings a richness and body to the sandwich, as well as an extra layer of savory depth.   

Great.  I understood the assignment.  Time to make the oceanic equivalents.

 
Spicy Tuna Ham

Tuna Loin ready for Smoker (L) 
Brine Mixture (R) 

I like spicy, and love a hoagie with hot capicola or peppered ham. I wanted the base of my seafood hoagie to bring the heft and heat, so I decided on brined, heavily spiced, cold smoked tuna.  Hot smoking a fish cooks it, giving it that flaky texture like smoked salmon or trout dips.  Cold smoking a fish, however, preserves it while maintaining the raw texture, like lox or gravlax.  A spicy, Niland style cold smoked tuna loin would be quite similar in taste and texture to an Italian ham.  I started by brining a two pound yellowfin tuna loin in a concentrated mix of kosher salt, brown sugar, red pepper flakes, coriander, paprika, black peppercorns and pink salt #1.  After twelve hours, I removed the loin, rinsed, patted dry, and covered it in more red pepper, black pepper, and paprika.  Lastly, I tied it off and placed it back in the fridge for twelve hours of drying and pellicle development.

We've got a decent amount of culinary oddities in our household, or unitaskers as they're commonly known.  Pasta machine, sausage grinder, vacuum sealer, food dehydrator, seltzer carbonator, even a deli slicer, as you'll see shortly.  However, we have yet to buy a smoker.  Since I couldn't justify the $500+ price tag for this project, plus the $130+ cold smoker adapter, I ended up MacGyvering one.  Repurposing two cardboard boxes, a wooden dowel, a hot plate, a handheld mini fan, and some flexible duct piping, I made my very own, fully functional cold smoker.  I'm far from cheap, but all in, this maybe cost me $30.  Not bad compared to the price of a commercial smoker.  Funnily enough, I also think it's the only time I've ever used duct tape on actual duct work.
   

Homemade Cold Smoker

I smoked the tuna loin for a little over four hours with a mixture of smoke chip samples on hand that I'd been wanting to use for ages.  Cherry, oak, apple, and hickory.  It needed pretty minimal maintenance, only refreshing the wood chips every hour or so.  Once finished, I set it aside to wait patiently for its cold cut partners.  The family wasn't too thrilled with the smokey scented fridge it created, but hoagie greatness requires sacrifice, right?

Octopus Salami

I get it.  We all know they're smart, especially if you've seen My Octopus Teacher.  I hope someone is reading this and condemning my use of octopus.  And while sitting on this perceived moral high ground, maybe they're sipping a Starbucks frappuccino made from child labor coffee beans.  Perhaps they're enjoying some avocado toast that's literally decimating entire water supplies in Chile.  Even better, they're reading this on an iPhone.  Many of our personal choices can have regrettable implications around the world, often without our realizing.

When it comes to food, I don't value one life more than the other based our contemporary understanding of what constitutes intelligence.  Recent research has shown trees and fungi communicate with each other.  All life is precious and deserving of our respect, regardless of how cute or smart we think it is.  At the same time, some life must end to nourish others.  For me, the importance is in the sustainable production and humane treatment of our food.  This goes from peas to pork and everything in between (the latter is also supposedly quite clever).  As long as the octopus was responsibly and ethically harvested, it's kosher in my book.   And it's ok if we disagree.  Don't eat my octopus salami, enjoy your iPhone, and we can still be friends. 

Beginnings of Octopus Salami

I didn't have the time or equipment to make actual cured and fermented octopus salami.  However, cooked octopus texture on its own would provide a nice contrasting bite, similar to a salami, and I knew I could achieve the salami flavor with the same seasonings.  A classic octopus carpaccio technique would work great.  I poached a whole Atlantic octopus in red wine, garlic, onions, paprika, peppercorns and fennel seeds for two hours.  Once fully cooked, I pulled the octopus to chill and broke it down.  The goal was to compress the octopus together in a ham press, forming a sliceable roll.  I also reduced the poaching liquid to a cup, allowed it to cool, and mixed in some gelatin.  Adding the concentrated stock to the salami would add flavor, and the gelatin would aid in keeping it all together.  I layered it all into the press, adding plenty of fennel seeds and black peppercorns intermittently to replicate that Genoa style.  Finally, into the fridge it went to set overnight. 

Steelhead Mortadella    

Steelhead Mortadella Ingredients

Last up was the rich and fatty component.  Habitual James Beard nominee Beau Schooler out of Juneau makes some pretty cool shit with local, seasonal salmon.  Salmon wings, shiny smoked salmon, salmon pepperoni, kelp cured salmon roe, compressed melon lox. Given the abundance of Alaskan seafood he uses with a focus on Italian technique, I figured he might provide some inspiration.  Sure enough, his salmon and scallop mortadella was the perfect fit for my hoagie.

Unfortunately, it was the middle of winter, when no Pacific wild-caught salmon is available fresh.  I could have gone for frozen sockeye, but I needed something a little fattier.  I'm also not a fan of most Atlantic farmed salmon, for a variety of reasons.  Then I remembered one of my previous winter projects where I used a locally farmed steelhead trout for a Fish Wellington.  It had a decent amount of fat and would work great for my mortadella.  Mixing in a few sea scallops would add to the richness as well.

Any mortadella starts with emulsifying meat, almost into a paste, with seasonings and binders.  While certainly not the most appetizing to prepare, many commonplace foods we love are emulsified meats.  Hot dogs, gyros, pepperoni, scrapple and pork roll for my Mid-Atlantic homies, and even chicken nuggets.  Contrary to the idiom, the world would be a better place if we all understood how the proverbial sausage was made.  Just think of that iPhone.  Anyway, I thoroughly blended the steelhead and a few sea scallops with salt, sugar, black pepper, coriander, garlic powder and egg whites.  Once a smooth forcemeat texture, I piped it all into a cook bag for steaming.  I also layered in whole pistachios and a few whole sea scallops to replicate that classic mortadella with fatback.  All bagged up, into the ham press and simmering water it went to steam to an internal temperature of 135°.  After about thirty minutes, it was fully cooked and ready for the fridge to chill and set. 

The SF Oyster Nerd Seafood Hoagie

The next day all three nautical deli meats were ready to go. They came out exactly as I'd hoped, especially when shaved on the deli slicer.  The tuna ham was smokey, spicy, and a perfect meaty cold cut texture.  The octopus salami was toothsome, savory, and had sharp, fragrant notes of fennel seed and black peppercorn, just like Genoa salami.  And the steelhead mortadella was rich, unctuous, and garlic forward with a slight scallopy sweetness.  Time for hoagie assembly.    

A great hoagie starts with great bread.  Which bread is best is another local point of contention, but "it's all about the bread" is commonly heard when talking about Philadelphia sandwiches.  Madaio's book has an entire chapter dedicated to just bread.  For my sandwich, I'd wanted to get a famous Sarcone's Bakery hoagie roll, but the 2 hour round trip for a loaf was a tough sell to the wife.  Liscio's Bakery seeded pan blind loaf has become a regional standard, with award winning Primo Hoagies even using them.  They're readily available at several retail stores in the area, and I prefer sesame seeded hoagie rolls.  They add pleasant toasted nuttiness. 

Seafood Hoagie Assembly

In terms of fixins and condiments, the world is your hoagie, except for mustard and mayo.  I believe you'd get your ass kicked asking for that.  The usual suspects are lettuce, tomato, and onion.  The lettuce is always finely shredded, and has affectionately become known as "shredduce" by some.  Careful, though.  Say shredduce in some parts of Philly and you'd get your ass kicked again.  The tomato should be sliced translucently thin and lightly salted to extract some moisture and flavor.  The onions must be sliced paper thin as well, and should be briefly marinated in oil, vinegar, and Italian seasoning.  This removes some of the piquant raw onion flavor that can overwhelm a hoagie.  Some form of pickled or roasted pepper often turns the topping trio into a quartet.  I always go for pepperoncinis as they've got a slight acidic heat, but not enough to blow out the whole hoagie.  For cheese, provolone is most common, but you know how it goes with cheese and seafood in Italian cuisine.  I'd considered shaving some bottarga on as a seafood surrogate for the cheese, but didn't get any in time.  Finally, the whole hoagie gets a liberal dousing of oil and vinegar, and hefty shake of Italian herbs and spices.

The SF Oyster Nerd Seafood Hoagie, Philly Style

The end result, absolute seafood hoagie bliss.  No joke, it actually worked.  I wish my home deli slicer could have gone thinner on the cuts, but beyond that, it was incredible.  I was seriously blown away.  Like most of you, I too was skeptical at the start of this project.  My culinary compadre, who's usually on board with most of my whacky ideas, called me "sick in the head" when I bounced this one off him.  But I knew I could make the parts well, and this surprisingly ended up as a genuine "the sum is greater than the parts" situation.  A slightly crunchy, toasty roll into savory layers of smokey tuna, rich mortadella, and briny octopus, all cut by bright, tart, and heavily seasoned fixins.  I even brought half to my die-hard-all-things-Philly neighbor to try and he was equally blown away.  I'm considering that proof of concept.  Watch out, Greater Philadelphia Area.  The SF Oyster Nerd Seafood Hoagie just might be coming to a pop-up near you.

Cheers,

The SF Oyster Nerd

A Fish Out of "Wudder" - Philadelphia Retail Seafood

In getting to know the Philadelphia seafood scene, I've admittedly been a bit of a fish out of water. "Wooder" or "wudder" might be more appropriate, for those of you familiar with the local dialect.  Living a solid 45 minutes outside of the city, and having two fingerlings of my own, has made it challenging to dissect the true culinary bounty of Philadelphia.  A real shame as there are so many oceanic offerings, deep-sea delights, and even a nautically-focused renaissance of sorts.  Don't worry, Father's Day is quickly approaching.  New barbecue set or whiskey stones, no thanks.  Reservations at Kensington Quarters or Vernick Fish, yes please.

Five course fish tasting at Elwood

I was fortunate enough to attend a luncheon at Elwood in Fishtown recently with a lecture on Philadelphia's historic seafood culture by Dr. Teagan Schweitzer.  It included an impressive five course fish tasting: sturgeon head cheese, potato ramp soup with shad, smoked catfish and waffles, sturgeon with asparagus and spaetzle, and strawberry panna cotta that was thickened with sturgeon gelatin.  Each course was paired with a heaping side of history on the respective fish and its impact on 18th through early 20th century Philadelphia.  For those of you who know me, you immediately understand this was my happy place.  Well executed fish cookery matched with discussions of historic, local foodways.  Better than sex?  Not quite, but close.  Every fish, every topic, every dish was deserving of its own extensive exploration and blog post.  Hell, Dr. Teagan wrote her disseration on many of the subjects and even a scholarly article on catfish alone.  I certainly couldn't do them any justice with my armchair seafood historian approach.  That being said, I definitely want to dig deeper into catfish and waffles; it was basically the 19th century equivalent of the modern day Philly cheesesteak. 

The whole conversation on Philadelphia's aquatic abundance of past made me think about the city's current seafood state.  Where does the average Philadelphian go to get fresh fish?  Sure, there are dozens of seafood eateries to try.  All in due time.  But where's the best place to get a pound of swordfish, a dozen oysters, a bushel of blue crabs, or even some once highly prized shad roe?  It's most definitely not Whole Foods or Acme.  So, I decided to call in sick on a beautiful, Spring Friday and head East on I-76, diving right into the depths of Philadelphia's retail seafood scene. 

Quick disclaimer: this is by no means an exhaustive list, just a few I was able to profile.  There are several other great places I've omitted, such as John Yi's in Reading Terminal or Hill's Seafood in the western suburbs, and specialty outfits like Phil's Live Crabs or Philadelphia Caviar Co.  There are also many others I look forward to checking out like Small World Seafood or Bywood.  If you've got suggestions, please do share.  I'm always fishing for new spots.   

The Classic - Anastasi Seafood

Anastasi Street View from 9th St. 

Where better to start than the heart and soul of the city's culinary history, the Italian Market in South Philadelphia.  Dating back to the 1880's, the Italian market has been a mainstay for shoppers seeking the city's best produce, meat, cheese, pastries, fish, and so on.  It certainly showcases the titular cuisine.  However, it's more broadly representative of a diverse immigrant food culture, housing some of the best Latino markets, Asian grocers, and everything in between.  Cheesesteaks, chorizo, chocolates, ceviches, carrot cake, cannoli, coconuts, caramels, curries, craft beers.  If you're keen, chances are the Italian Market's got it.  And the epitome of the Italian Market's fish peddler tradition sits at 9th and Washington in Anastasi Seafood.

Anastasi's various selections

A fourth-generation, family-owned establishment opened by Sicilian immigrants over 100 years ago, Anastasi has had a few different locations along the 9th Street corridor.  Sadly, I couldn't revisit the brilliance I'd experienced as a kid at their full service restaurant and market location in the late 90s.  It closed recently and was demolished to make way for some new restaurants and adult dorms.  The community has had mixed reactions to the project, though it will objectively be a financial boon to the neighborhood.  I just hope they can gracefully maintain the cutty character that defines the Italian Market.  Fortunately, Anastasi relocated right across the street with retail operations and a full kitchen.  While it no longer boasts the full service dine-in option, their kitchen is still cranking out high caliber dishes for carry-out and delivery platforms.  Tuna antipasto, fried calamari, pescatore pasta, shrimp scampi.  It's got a definite Italian-American theme mixed with some familiar Continental staples like crabcakes and broiled seafood platters.  The fresh fish market has the basics adequately covered, and then some.  Whatever your likely seafood need, Anastasi can deliver, literally.  Most endearing was the street-side shellfish selection.  Buckets of blue crabs, bivalves, crayfish, and lobsters, all right there on the sidewalk for your perusing and choosing.  It's quite charming in an almost Dickensian way; how I imagine the Italian Market was over a century ago.

Clams Casino from Anastasi Seafood

The staff was incredibly pleasant and accommodating.  I spoke with Mia, a fifth-generation Anastasi, for well over half an hour, discussing the establishment's history, recent transition, and things to come.  She was more than welcoming of all my inquiries, ranging from when fresh sardines would be available to the ingredients of their Oysters Rockefeller.  She even mentioned a special dinner they'd be hosting this Summer, appropriately named "Dinner with the Fishes."  I'll be keeping an eye on their 'gram for updates.  As they've been so famed for their kitchen prepared items, I had to go with something take-and-bake.  Clams casino seemed like a good litmus test, and it certainly delivered.  Sweet bell peppers, ample amounts of bacon, and well-seasoned breadcrumbs all mixed with salty, toothsome bites of clam meat.  A spot on classic dish from a classic place.  The whole experience reminded me of how a house is just a house, and it takes a family to make it a home.  Anastasi's new location is just a seafood shop, but the history, staff, and quality continue to make it the Italian Market institution it's always been.

The Comprehensive - Samuels & Son Seafood Company / Giuseppe's Market / Ippolito's

Entrance to the market

First and foremost, Samuels & Son Seafood Co. is a wholesaler.  It's located on South Lawrence St. in what's best described as the shipping/industrial neighborhood of Southeast Philadeldiphia, along with several other seafood distributors.  Samuels primarily caters to local and national restaurants, retail purveryors, and larger scale seafood operations.  However, cozily tucked in the shadows of Lincoln Financial Field, between all the 18-wheelers and expansive warehouses, sits Giuseppe's Market, Samuels' retail outlet.  Samuels' foundation was actually in retail seafood, with Giuseppe Ippolito opening Ippolito's Seafood near the Italian Market in 1929.  This humble shop eventually grew into the Samuels' seafood empire.  So, when Ippolito's closed its storefront in 2018, Samuels shifted retail operations to the warehouse under the name Giuseppe's Market.  And oddly enough, as you can tell by the lead-in, the establishment still goes by all three names.  A bit of brand confusion, but hey, they're fishmongers, not marketing experts.  When I asked one of the staff about the naming conventions, he said "oh, ya know, it's like the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit - different, but also the same."  You've got to love the Italian and Irish Catholic parlance of Philadelphia.

Giusseppe's various fresh selections

The main thing you notice when stepping into Giuseppe's is that it's truly a seafood warehouse/wholesaler first, and seafood market second.  Giant tubs of iced whole fish and fully-PPEd staff are constantly scurrying through factory, dual-swinging doors.  That strong aroma of processing seafood muted by industrial sanitizers lingers.  And there always seems to be three or four employees taking their five for smoke break just outside the shipment bay.  Let me be clear that these are all positive indicators of being closer to the source on the supply chain, which is always a good thing when it comes to seafood.  But what really hits you with Giussepe's is the sheer size and variety of their selection.  Bluefish, salmon, swordfish, tuna, red snapper, branzino, Chilean sea bass, halibut, fluke, hake, cod.  Blue crabs, snow crabs, stone crabs, king crabs, dungeness crabs.  Live scallops, snails, cockles, mussels, clams, oysters.  A total of twelve different types of lobster tails based on size and region.  Every cephalopod you could possibly imagine.  Most impressive were the unconventional or often difficult to find marine delicacies they casually had on hand.  Whole langostines, pacu ribs, periwinkles, kampachi collars, Arctic surf clams, even the elusive shad roe.  And what they didn't have fresh or frozen, they could most certainly source with a simple inquiry.

Brazilian and Maine Lobster Tails

Lobster Tikka Masala w/ Cilantro Rice and Spinach

With the near anxiety-inducing selection, I scrambled and ended up with two each of Maine and Brazilian lobster tails.  Believe me, I really wanted to bring home some fish ribs or collars, even some squid ink or monkfish liver.  However, family dinner plans were still pending and I know those wouldn't have been well-received.  The wife and kids both love lobster, and love tikka masala.  A combination of the two felt unorthodox enough to appease my obscurity-seeking interests Samuels had spawned, while still being agreeable for the whole family.  I can assure you the next time I'm looking for those less common cuts of fish, Samuels will be the first place I check.  It's definitely one of the most comprehensive seafood retailers I've ever encountered.    

The Conscientious - Fishtown Seafood

Storefront of Fishtown Seafood

Fishtown Seafood was opened by Bryan Szeliga in January 2022, right in the heart of, you guessed it, Fishtown.  He parlayed his popular 2021 seafood delivery service into a brick and mortar, and has been the talk of the 'hood ever since, putting the fish back in Fishtown.  It's a modest yet chic establishment, very attuned to a new generation of at-home seafood consumers.  That's not to say it's exclusive, but it's certainly hipper than more traditional seafood outfits.  You can tell by its social media presence alone, particularly when compared to something like Samuels' old school newsletter.  To be competitive, small businesses need to differentiate themselves, providing novel or niche products and experiences.  Fishtown Seafood does exactly that in some of the best ways, well beyond its debonair storefront.

Fishtown Seafood's various selections

First, you won't find the conventional, store-length deli cases packed with ice and fish fillets at Fishtown.  Bryan's focus is reinventing the retail seafood industry with a culinary conservationist approach, from catch to supply chain to consumer.  This translates to superfrozen seafood, something historically only available to sushi restaurants and wholesalers.  A lot of "fresh" fish from markets is often a week or more out of the water by the time we eat it, frequently longer.  It's also usually packed in melting ice, and few things decompose fish more quickly than fresh water.  You may be familiar with this concept from the sukibiki and dry-aged fish trend, but that's for a whole other blog post.  The majority of seafood Fishtown sources is immediately superfrozen after harvest, and kept well below -70° F to ensure peak quality, texture, and freshness.  This also allows Fishtown to source conscientiously, only bringing in human rights observant, sustainably caught, chemical free, and responsibly transported seafood.  Yes, something as simple as your shrimp scampi recipe can impact others' livelihoods, ecosystem welfare, your health, and every level of our environment.  There's a lot of disinformation and greenwashing (cough, Whole Foods, cough) when it comes to seafood, and Fishtown provides amazing product while cutting through all the bullshit.

Fishtown Seafood Best Practices Cards

Second, Fishtown doesn't just sell seafood, but offers a unique and educational seafood experience.  This manifests in several ways, from regularly partnering with other small businesses to hosting weekly classes on knife sharpening or sustainable fisheries.  They carry a wide variety of tinned seafoods, plant-based seafoods, dried seafoods, seaweeds, sauces, and seasonings, all meticulously and resolutely selected.  My favorite part, however, is the oysters.  Fishtown consistently carries anywhere from twelve to eighteen different varieties of oysters, something almost unheard of in the retail seafood world.  I spoke with Bryan for a bit on my visit, and most interesting was how Fishtown serendipitously became one of the premier oyster retailers in the city.  He said when they opened, they needed a fresh but less-perishable product to fill two giant refrigerated coolers leftover from the previous owners.  Obviously, superfrozen fish wouldn't work, so "shell-stable" bivalves came to mind.  And targeting that novel or niche small business experience, Fishtown dove head first into the world of nuanced oyster flavors and textures.  Their selection, and infatuation, quickly grew.  Traditionally, trying just six different varieties of oysters would cost you $30-$40 + tip at a local raw bar.  With their $1 oyster deal every Friday, Fishtown has essentially democratized the costly raw bar oyster tasting experience, albeit with a little do-it-yourself shucking.  But hey, they've got classes for that too.   

Fishtown Seafood Medley

Prosciutto Wrapped Scallops

 I must admit, having worked in and out of the seafood industry for almost 20 years, frozen fish has always given me pause.  Sure, I've had some very good ones on occasion, but my retail experience with it has largely been less than positive.  Fishtown changed that.  I purchased a combo fish box of New Zealand raised king salmon, wild-caught Peruvian mahi-mahi, wild Mexican U15 shrimp, and Maine sea scallops, all superfrozen.  I also grabbed a package of skipjack tuna (katsuo) and a tin of Limfjord Cockles.  Suffices to say I was picking up what Fishtown Seafood was putting down.  I wanted it all.  I thawed the scallops recently for a family BBQ, wrapped them in prosciutto, grilled them, and served with a side of horseradish thyme cream sauce.  Honestly, they were much better than many retail dayboat scallops I've had.  The mahi-mahi and cockles were amazing too, and I fully expect the rest of my purchases to be the same.  Fishtown Seafood is a true inspiration, and should be a model for anyone opening a seafood outlet.  It's one of the best, most conscientious establishments I've ever come across, and is genuinely the future of the industry, especially with all those 'sters.

The Community Driven - Fishadelphia 

I'll be transparent right from the start, Fishadelphia holds a special place in my heart.  The previous establishments were all either brand new to me, or I'd had a fleeting familiarity with them from my childhood, decades ago.  However, I have been following Fishadelphia all the way from San Francisco since its inception back in 2018.  I used a similar vendor, The Seaforager, in the Bay Area, and was ecstatic to the see same thing happening in Philadelphia.  So when we decided to move to the area in the Summer of 2021, at the very top of my to-do list was trying out Fishadelphia.

Fishadelphia pick up stall - source - Hakai Magazine 

For starters, Fishadelphia isn't a brick and mortar like the other establishments.  You can't simply walk into their shop on a casual Tuesday afternoon and step out with two dozen little neck clams or a pound of bluefish.  It's a subscription program known as a community supported fishery (CSF).  Much like community supported agriculture memberships (CSAs), you sign up for a specific time period, pay a flat rate, and pick up a fresh catch at a Fishadelphia stall or cooler every two weeks.  Same as CSAs where you get a mix of random seasonal produce, your fish is chosen for you and you don't know what it is until the day of.  Dogfish, scallops, oysters, skate wings, fluke flounder, tilefish.  You get whatever's in season and being raised or landed by South Jersey aquaculturists and fishers.  It's a brilliant way of connecting local seafood harvesters directly with local seafood consumers.  Not only does this support small fisheries committed to ethical and responsible practices, it ensures you're getting the freshest product possible.  Remember how a lot of market fish is often over a week out of the water before we eat it?  Not Fishadelphia's shares.  Staff members pick up the product straight from the docks, process it, and have it in your hands no more than 24 to 48 hours later, depending on how much butchery or packaging is required.  Every share I've received has been absolutely impeccable.  Also, supporting Fishadelphia is supporting our aquatic ecosystems by eating a variety of sustainable sea life.  No, you won't get your beloved center cut salmon fillet.  But who wants to eat that over and over again anyway?  To protect our oceans while continuing to enjoy seafood, we must choose from a broader diversity of fisheries, eating smaller and lower on the food chain.  Who knows, you might just find whole roasted porgy is actually tastier than IQF tortilla crusted tilapia...trust me, it is. 

Fishadelphia Scallops - source - Facebook

If you're not sold just yet, Fishadelphia's merit goes well beyond providing top-notch, sustainable seafood.  As their website says, "we bring fresh, local seafood to Philadelphia's diverse communities."  However, as is the case with most great things, actions are much louder than words, and Fishadelphia's undertakings speak volumes.  First, they offer a tiered pricing structure.  This means people from all economic backgrounds can partake by signing up for subsidized or even free memberships.  Healthy, fresh seafood shouldn't just be available to the rich, and Fishadelphia acts on this food justice principle.  Conversely, members who are financially able can sign up at "supporter" or "sustainer" rates, contributing to those aforementioned subsidizations and much more.  Fishadelphia prioritizes robust youth education projects, running after school programs on business and marine ecology for high school students in South and North Philly.  Staff and producers all receive living wages and fair compensation.  They regularly organize educational field trips to local providers, docks, and farms and participate in local events.  Their outreach and messaging is acutely focused on diversity, equity, and inclusion.  They champion local businesses, organizations, and initiatives, amplifying traditionally quieter voices.  The only thing that may surpass the quality of their seafood is the quality of their mission. 

Oyster Bánh Mì Po' Boy - a.k.a Oyster Bánh Boí

Scallop Wrapped Bacon

I've picked up dozens of shares of Fishadelphia product over the last two years, and as noted, each time the fish or shellfish has been incredible.  It's hard to pick a favorite from the countless dishes we've created.  One of the most memorable was a bánh mì and oyster po' boy mashup, what we affectionately named an oyster bánh boí.  Another was the Kris Kross-esque scallop wrapped bacon.  Maybe I'm just a nerd, but whimsical seafood dishes always make me smile.  Trust me, though, it's on brand when using Fishadelphia product, as they've got more dad jokes than you can shake a fishing rod at.  They always give me a chuckle when I'm scrolling through Instagram.  I can't think of many businesses I'm happier to patron for so many reasons.  Sure, Fishadelphia could be considered just a seafood provider on paper, but in practice, they're truly a pillar of the community.

My foray into the world of Philadelphia retail seafood was an overwhelming joy.  I met some wonderful people, tasted some great food, and was introduced to some phenomenal products.  I look forward to exploring and discovering more.  More importantly, I look forward to supporting these business again and again, and becoming a part of the Philadelphia seafood community.  I hope you have the chance to do so as well.  

    

Cheers,

The SF Oyster Nerd