Ride or Die. Don’t start whining about Philly having the best pretzels because you’re wrong and these motherfuckers from St. Louis are the heat.
Back in the day I used to have Gus’s pretzels after Cardinals baseball games or whenever me and my Pops would go to downtown St. Louis. Homeboy would be out slanging bags of these bitches on the street every weekend. We’d stop at an intersection and Pops would get a few sticks for the fam.
A few years back I finally made it to the factory where they were made, conveniently located right across the street from the Budweiser brewery. I was meeting up with my dude Chilly C and STUN, a graffiti artist who was airbrushing my turntables because I’m a boss like that. Anyway, he lived down the street from Gus’s and we decided to take a walk up there while STUN was hooking up the artwork. It was then that I was introduced to one of the most bangingest sandwiches ever, Gus’s Salsiccia Pretzel.
I mean look at that thing. What’s there not to love? It’s a fucking pretzel, it’s a fucking salsiccia. Add mustard, eat. So simple and perfect in design it would probably be on the menu of my last meal.