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Growing up in North Central Pennsylvania meant reaping the culinary benefits of being situated between Philly and New York City. The pizza and sandwiches, particularly the cheesesteaks, are staples of Williamsport, Pa. fast-casual menus, and were something I missed after moving to Pittsburgh. While I’ve found local substitutions for the big New York-style slices and subs of my youth (thanks for the seitan cheesesteak, Spak), one food item eluded me — the cheese Cosmo.
How to define the cheese Cosmo. It’s not grilled cheese, it’s not a simple cheese sandwich. A generous slab of cheese (I usually ordered provolone) comes hot and ready on a sub roll with various toppings — you can do “in the garden” with lettuce, tomato, and onion, along with vinegary dressings, condiments, and that lovely, spicy sandwich pepper spread. You can also add meat or grilled veggies.
While this type of sandwich goes by many names, a 2011 article on the PA Eats website claims that Williamsport is the only place that calls it a “Cosmo.”
After decades of going Cosmo-less in Pittsburgh, I wandered into the Waterworks Uncle Sam’s location looking for a quick vegetarian option. I scanned the menu board above the counter and noticed a cheese sub. The teen employee jotting my order down asked, “Do you want the cheese grilled?” My heart leapt. I knew he meant it would go directly on the grill before hitting the bread. I’m not sure what I replied but in my head, I thought, “Abso-fucking-lutely.”
The sandwich comes served on a classically Pittsburgh Manicini’s sub roll with a generous side of fries. The grilled cheese resembles something closer to halloumi, a Cypriot delicacy combining goat and sheep milk to create a heavy, chewy texture that doesn’t melt under high temperatures.
Let me make this clear — I like a wet sub. I want that thing hot, and I want it dripping a blend of sandwich oil and mayo. If you’re like me, I suggest adding extra sandwich oil to your order to make that baby sing. Once I got that soggy, delicious mess of my own making I tore into it as I watched a muted King of the Hill rerun on one of the shop’s televisions.
The notably cash-only chain, which operates three locations, now stands as the only local business thus far that can give me my Cosmo fix. That Uncle Sam’s also leaves out bottles of Heinz malt vinegar, one of my favorite fry toppings, makes it all the better.
This article appears in May 29 – Jun 4, 2024.
