In zip codes across Pittsburgh, the two rivalrous sandwich-producing factories of this country -- Quizno's and Subway -- stand side-by-side, poised at one another like the graphical football helmets from old Monday Night Football introductions, which would, without fail, buck at one another in an unforgettable exhibition of mutual destruction.

One week ago, when Munch began a pattern of daily sandwich consumption, alternating between Quizno's and Subway, Munch anticipated a competition as hot as the toasty subs both chains are now vending en masse. Subway and Quizno's, after all, are locked into a battle for American's sandwich consumers, and those consumers, in turn, are picking sides as if obligated by government legislation.

In downtown Pittsburgh, the two stores are separated by just a couple of hundred yards. On Carson Street, they're within blocks of one another. Along the William Penn Highway, they're within walking distance. (Not that Munch advises walking.)

Point is, the Quizno's-Subway question inspires both competition and passionate discourse, and Munch now feels obligated to interject. "Subway or Quizno's?" is the "paper or plastic?" of the 21st century. At some point, everybody must answer. So cueing the drum roll at this precise time, Munch will now deliver the verdict.

Quizno's.

Yup, Quizno's is better.

In fact, it isn't even close.

Munch came by this decision after one week of careful scrutiny, during which Munch sought opinions from several confidants and promptly dismissed all who dared to contest Quizno's superiority.

Subway, by way of its motto, suggests that consumers "Eat fresh!" -- but Munch first grew wary of this selling point during Sandwich Meal No. 1, in which a Subway employee (or sandwich artist) pulled out a plastic bag of watery chicken and emptied it onto a six-inch Italian roll that was already crumbling into rubble. This was the beginnings of Subway's new Chicken Bacon Ranch sub, which appeared on the menu only recently, coincidentally following the success of Quizno's toasty subs.

Only this particular sub was smaller than Quizno's. And far less flavorful. The highlight was the Sun Chips that came as a part of the meal.

Next, Munch ventured to Quizno's and ordered a sub -- the Black Angus -- that essentially performed a lap dance for Munch's taste buds. Though Munch rarely enjoys sandwiches fashioned from red meat, this one dripped with taste ... and sauce ... and flavor. Strips of beef were layered at perfect thickness -- neither too skimpy nor skyscraper high -- across a hearty piece of rosemary parmesan bread. If Ruth's Chris were cross-bred with finger food, you'd get this. Perfect.

All meals that followed reaffirmed Munch's first impressions of both Quizno's and Subway. Quizno's uses fresher ingredients and serves larger portions, thanks to wider bread rolls. At Subway, meat is often stuffed into the farthest corner of the sandwich -- right along the connecting edge of the bread -- thus rendering three-fourths of the sandwich nothing but a gooey vessel of lettuce, tomato and mayo. At Quizno's, meat and vegetables are spread across the bread with care.

As Munch learned while promulgating the Quizno's-is-king agenda, Subway still has its ardent supporters -- those who uphold their chain of choice with a set of defenses almost as airtight as the plastic bags containing watery chicken bits.

They tell you that Subway is cheaper. (Munch's retort: Only marginally, and who even cares? If a diamond is worth two months' salary, a good lunch is certainly worth one hour's.)

They tell you that Subway is healthier. (Munch's retort: So are rice cakes.)

Oh, and they tell you about Jared. (Munch's retort: C'mon, have mercy. Do we really need to hear more about Jared?)

Besides, when Jared lost all that weight, he probably celebrated with a meal at Quizno's.