Shaun C.
Google
There are sandwiches, and then there’s Pisillo — where each bite feels like it’s been blessed by the sandwich gods and delivered straight from Naples to 7th Ave.
I went with the Parma, and let’s just say this thing doesn’t play small ball. It’s stacked like a luxury high-rise: prosciutto, mozzarella, roasted peppers, arugula, and that sesame-crusted bread that crunches just enough to make eye contact with your soul.
You unwrap it in foil like a treasure, take one bite, and suddenly you’re reconsidering every “Italian sub” you’ve ever settled for. Bonus points for the outdoor seating — nothing says “power move” like housing a sandwich the size of your head while watching Chelsea traffic crawl by.
Pair it with a Coke Zero if you want to pretend you’re being healthy.
⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️ — the kind of sandwich that makes you cancel afternoon plans and just sit there, smiling like an idiot.