Joel Huval shows up at his front door, three dogs rustling around his feet, with a smile as large as the muscles straining beneath his fitted T-shirt. He's not menacing, though I believe he could be if things go south. He's excited to welcome me, a stranger, into his home to watch him prepare "The Smasher," a steak sandwich the size of a hubcap.
The dogs jump as I enter. He talks them down but it's clear they're probably in charge, despite Joel's size and Navy training. Joel is a Senior Chief Petty Officer in the US Navy. He's also a champion Scrabble player, a runner of 5Ks, a fierce trivia night competitor, a family man and a Bristol super fan.
"No one loves this town more than Joel," says Holly Huval, his beautiful wife, who stuns even in a T-shirt and hoodie. She is striking, funny and kind – it's easy to see why she's Joel's inspiration. Before they met he would only cook "Man Spaghetti," which he describes as noodles drained straight from the pot with a lid over the sink. Now he knows his way around a kitchen. Now, "Man Spaghetti" has been replaced by "The Smasher."
Joel marinates a flank steak for a few hours, grills it rare, slices it into long strips then packs it into a hollowed Portuguese sweet bread round loaf with Havarti dill cheese, arugula, caramelized onions, bacon and a little Dijon mustard. The he puts a cutting board on top of it, rests a 30lb dumbbell on top of that, and lets it sit for 15 minutes. Smashed to the thickness of a mountain bike tire, the sandwich goes into a 350-degree oven for exactly 17 1/2 minutes. He slices his creation and serves it with curly fries.
"This is the cheese steak sandwich you would serve to Jesus," I say after my first bite.
Everyone laughs - except the dogs, who are praying to Jesus for someone to drop a strip of the mouth-watering beef.
Holly and Joel are joined at the table by their daughter, Kara Silva, and her boyfriend, Brett Hajder. They're both sophomores at Mt. Hope High School. Kara wants to be a pastry chef and a writer. Whenever "The Smasher" is prepared she's the one eating the bread chunks left over after Joel hollows out the loaf.
Kara tells me she's proud of Joel. He's in line to reach the rank of Master Chief, he runs, he's teaching himself how to play guitar, he gives her boyfriend a hard time but it is clear to everyone he likes the kid. He's a good guy surrounded by a wonderful family.
And when the meal is done he insists I take home the leftovers - two triangle-shaped slices of a sandwich befitting heroes and gods.
"We'll hang out sometime," he says as I'm saying my goodbyes,
I'd be honored, Chief.

"