Food D.O.G.s: This Soprano is a stand-up guy

A few weeks ago, I had a sit-down with a Soprano.
Since it was the Soprano sandwich at Klondike Kate's (158 E. Main St., Newark), and not a chubby bald guy named Tony, I came out of this meeting unscathed.
In fact, I emerged satiated.
But let's first get down to the particulars. Without knowing anything about the Soprano ($9.95), one might assume that this sucker was some kind of fattening, gluttonous, overloaded slob of a sandwich that Tony might eat after a night of booze, illicit party favors and the company of strippers at the Bada Bing.
But to continue the parallel - I'm trying! - between food and the wise guys on "The Sopranos," the sandwich is more Bobby Baccalieri than it is Paulie Walnuts.
In other words, you'll get the gunshaft-to-the-back-of-the-head meats - tavern ham, salami, cappicola - and the one-two fat punch to the gut of focaccia bread and drizzles of oil and balsamic vinegar.
But this sandwich is sensitive, like the miniature-train-loving, Teddy bear-like Bobby. The meat portions - which are topped with provolone cheese - aren't enormous, and the health hazards seem to be negated by the juicy hunks of tomatoes wedged between the bread.
There were some dry bites where it was just meat and cheese and veggies, but the sandwich truly got "made" when the main ingredients mixed with the oil and balsamic vinegar.
The Soprano sandwich might not be cause for a meeting with the New York and New Jersey families, but it's definitely worth a crew pow-wow at Satriale's Pork Store.

By Peter Bothum