• Mike Sula
  • Foss Food Truck’s Not Yo Daddy’s Balls

Phillip Foss is a chef who never runs out of shtick. One of his latest acts on the Meatyballs Mobile is a bull’s testicle sandwich configured like an Italian meatball sub. He’s calling it “Not Yo’ Daddy’s Balls.” Last week he began carrying a single testicle sandwich aboard his truck and offering it for free, but it’s proved popular enough that he’s added it to his regular menu. Who’s buying it?

“They’re definitely ballsy people,” he told me. “I’ve even delivered them. It’s usually done kind of on a dare.”

If heart is a gateway organ for novice offal eaters, testicles are the Mount Everest. In my experience they’re rubbery and tensile—it’s like biting into a racquetball. Foss says that’s because they’re usually cooked too fast. He’s not pounding and frying his prairie oyster style, instead slicing them, dusting them with flour, and lightly panfrying them in olive oil before baking in a low oven with garlic, onions, red and yellow peppers, and tomato sauce. On the sandwich they have the texture of chicken nuggets, with a neutral flavor, almost a vehicle for the red sauce. It’s not bad. But you know what would make it better? If he could assemble it to order.

Today Foss is parking outside the Tribune Tower for lunch. Hmm, maybe John Kass will have the balls . . .