Menu
Penn Station serves 14 types of subs, ranging from its trademark Philly Cheesesteak sub to the "create it yourself" Dagwood. All sandwiches are made to order in front of the customer. Sandwiches are offered in 5 sizes: a kid's size is 4 inches long, a lite is 6 inches long, small is 8 inches, a medium is 10 inches, and a large is 12 inches.
Other Penn Station "signatures" include: hand-cut French fries, fresh-squeezed lemonade which is made daily, and fresh-baked Sourdough bread.
Recently, Penn Station has started offering fresh salads, following a trend in providing healthier menu options. The salads, like the sandwiches, are made fresh. They are simply a "bread-less" version of a particular sandwich.
Another newly offered item is the Hot-Grilled Wraps, which, much like the salads, can transform any sandwich into a wrap.
For a short while, Penn Station tested soups at a few restaurants. There were two different kinds of soups a day, and every two days two different soups were available. The soups did not sell well enough, and the idea was abandoned.
Read more about this topic: Penn Station (restaurant)
Famous quotes containing the word menu:
“Roast Beef, Medium, is not only a food. It is a philosophy. Seated at Life’s Dining Table, with the menu of Morals before you, your eye wanders a bit over the entrées, the hors d’oeuvres, and the things à la though you know that Roast Beef, Medium, is safe and sane, and sure.”
—Edna Ferber (1887–1968)
“The menu was stewed liver and rice, fricassee of bones, and shredded dog biscuit. The dinner was greatly appreciated; the guests ate until they could eat no more, and Elisha Dyer’s dachshund so overtaxed its capacities that it fell unconscious by its plate and had to be carried home.”
—For the State of Rhode Island, U.S. public relief program (1935-1943)
“...what a thing it is to lie there all day in the fine breeze, with the pine needles dropping on one, only to return to the hotel at night so hungry that the dinner, however homely, is a fete, and the menu finer reading than the best poetry in the world! Yet we are to leave all this for the glare and blaze of Nice and Monte Carlo; which is proof enough that one cannot become really acclimated to happiness.”
—Willa Cather (1876–1947)