CP Photo: Mars Johnson
Traingle Bar & Grill, home of the Battleship sandwich
Sometimes you just need a really big sandwich.
This is the case on a Tuesday afternoon when I meet Pittsburgh City Newspaper Photographer Mars Johnson after work at Triangle Bar & Grill in Swissvale. Located at the end of Swissvale’s nondescript Monongahela Ave. business district, the bar is housed in a nondescript, wedge-shaped building. Your first clue that this is no ordinary dive bar: The more conspicuous of the building’s two main signs is the one promising Battleship and Destroyer sandwiches, voted by readers of this publication as one of the best hoagies in the area.
Inside, the Triangle is 1) surprisingly busy and 2) more like a deli than a dive bar. A steady stream of locals line up for sandwiches while a few regulars sip drinks. It takes us a second to place an order, but it’s simple and executed quickly: “We’d like to share a Battleship, please.”
While we wait a moment, a local patron, who has a shot and a beer in front of him at the bar, tells us that the bar has been around since at least 1972, when he moved to the area. We talk about the Pirates’ losing streak, and then the sandwich arrives, all two feet away.
“Brr,” we both say.
CP Photo: Mars Johnson
Francisco “Pancho” Garcia presents the Battleship Sub on August 13, 2024 at Triangle Bar & Grill.
My first encounter with the Battleship was during a game night a few years ago, when it fed our party of four and then some. The sandwich is not a State Fair-style novelty food. It’s not deep-fried, topped with pierogi, or served on a skillet with bubbly cheese. What it is is a big, big sandwich for $21.75 that’s big enough for a family.
Unless you specify otherwise, the Battleship comes standard with capicola and slices of ham (although another customer ordered his sandwich with tuna). There’s a layer of cheese in the middle of the sandwich, topped with slices of tomato, shredded lettuce, and a light Italian dressing with a dash of pepper. One difference from other hoagie shops is the thickness of the cuts – Triangle Bar doesn’t skimp, and there’s at least a half-inch of sausage in the middle of our sandwich.
CP Photo: Mars Johnson
A cross-section of the battleship
As we eat, I look at the vintage sportswear. It’s hard not to imagine the Triangle as an after-shift watering hole for US Steel workers down south – the Carrie Blast Furnaces are just down the hill. The friendly patron tells us that the place is a madhouse on Steeler Sundays. This is truly a thick slice of Old Pittsburgh.
We both finish a quarter of the sandwich in surprisingly short order and wash it down with some beer. A game show is on the TV. The regular finishes his bourbon. I flag down Pancho, who takes our order, and he offers to wrap up the leftovers while I get out $30 (Triangle Bar is cash only).
Sometimes it’s nice to know what’s for lunch tomorrow. Mars and I wonder as we pay how many family dinners and football games have been fueled by battleships and destroyers over the years. “The sandwich that made Swissvale famous” must have been a lifeline before payday for steelworkers who enjoyed it, one thick slice at a time, through Friday.
CP Photo: Mars Johnson
Yinzer memorabilia at Triangle Bar & Grill, home of the Battleship sandwich
Triangle has probably produced more battleships at this point than all U.S. shipyards combined, and this slight decline shows no signs of slowing in 2024.
More and more customers stream in to eat their own large sandwiches. We step out into the August sun, both a little slow after eating what feels like several pounds of sausage and toppings and spending what most bars charge for a burger on three meals and two cold beers.
Sometimes you just need a battleship.
