Hey Pittsburgh expats: jeet jet? Because here's some news that's going to make yinz hungry: Primanti Brothers delivers all the way to D.C. -- or anywhere else, for that matter. Thanks to online retailer Goldbely, you can now order a Primanti's party pack to feed four, perfect for the next Stillers game.

Like news of any other regional food specialty, this is a big deal to only a small number of people. But it's high time that the rest of America got acquainted with the aggressively caloric and uniquely lowbrow culinary delight that is a Pittsburgh sandwich.

We put French fries and coleslaw INSIDE the sandwich, folks.

No, seriously. It all goes in there, on top of the meat -- maybe pastrami, or capicola and egg, or a not-Philly cheesesteak -- and tomato, cushioned by a thick slice of Italian bread. It's the coleslaw that really makes this sandwich so great -- sweet and vinegary, with the right about of textural contrast to offset the squishiness and starchiness of everything else. This is the food of truck drivers and sports fans, a convenient one-handed meal.

If you're still not convinced that this is an exceptional sandwich, let Adam Richman of "Man v. Food" tell you:

It used to be that you could only get a Primanti's sandwich at the chain's locations in and around Pittsburgh. Or, you could try to recreate them at home. But nothing beats the original, which was delivered to us last week, in a nearly 10-pound refrigerated box overnighted from Pittsburgh. "Savin' you a schlep dahntahn," the box read.

The ingredients inside included: One whole loaf of Italian bread, a bag of frozen fries, a container of coleslaw, four portions of capicola and pastrami, four slices of provolone cheese, packets of Red Devil hot sauce and a T-shirt. Also, some instructions. You'll need an oven to bake the fries, and a pan or griddle for the meats.

Not included: a six pack of Iron City or Yuengling. Also, the provided instructions said you can add a runny fried egg, which we'd highly recommend. While the fries were baking, we prepared all of our meat.

Then we began to assemble all of the rest of the ingredients, slicing the bread and tomatoes.

The resulting sandwich was a beautiful specimen, nearly five inches tall. We wrapped it in wax paper to keep all the good stuff inside, just like they do at the restaurant -- we recommend laying down a wax paper layer before you build the sandwich.

Goldbely is seriously pricey: The entire thing cost $109, including shipping. Back in Pittsburgh, these sandwiches cost about $7 each. More than just a sandwich, you're paying a premium for a taste of flown-in nostalgia here. Also, these sandwiches are seriously enormous, so you can split them and feed four to eight people, depending on appetites -- which might help lower the cost if you decide to go in on a box together with a group of friends.

Just like the real thing! BECAUSE IT IS THE REAL THING.