Category Archives: Sandwich Reviews

Nuno – City Sandwich, 9th Ave, New York, NY

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I always feel a bit of guilt when eating at an establishment with a fair amount of hype, and I suspect I’m not alone in that. Shouldn’t I been down some dingy alley, finding the place no one else has heard of? Wouldn’t their sandwich be better than this one? That’s probably nonsense, but the human heart is not quite so straightforward as a fine sandwich. City Sandwich is just the kind of establishment with a grand reputation, and what’s more the Nuno is a particularly praised sandwich. So I was compounding my own sin, if it can be called that, but I’m not going to apologize for even a second, because this is an amazing sandwich.

The Nuno is Portuguese morcela (blood sausage), broccoli rabe, tomato, collard greens and mozzarella with garlic and olive oil. It’s a timeless archetype—meat, greens, tomato, cheese—and it’s timeless for a good reason. The blood sausage and the broccoli rabe is the winning move here, with the sausage bringing a rich, complex flavor and the greens a bright, earthy undertone. The cheese is melted and stringy, mozzarella a fine choice to not overpower the rest of the sandwich, and the bread is crispy with a tender, yielding crumb. While finding an unheralded gem of an establishment or a sandwich is undoubtedly a thrill, you owe it to yourself to just can it and get in line with everyone else. City Sandwich is one of those times; make your way past the growing mass of newspaper clippings and printed blog posts at the door and have a sandwich. You won’t regret it.

de Verdekke – Wafels & Dinges, 65th & Columbus, New York, NY

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Wafels & Dinges is a chain of carts in New York City, ostensibly putting fourth an authentic Belgian waffle experience. I can’t speak to that, having never been to Belgium, but I can say what they put out is delicious. Warm waffles with a subtle sweetness topped with more directly sweet items, it’s a fine evening snack. Even finer is a treat that comes in the form of a sandwich, as you see above.

I don’t think I’ve got more to say about this than that it was delicious, but I should say that several times, and at a less-than-reasonable volume. This was outstanding, with warm crispy waffles and rich, creamy ice cream. This sort of thing is exactly why we eat sandwiches, isn’t it? It need not be fancy, just take the right things, put them together, and you move from good to great.

Veal Parm – Jefferson Diner, Bowling Green Parkway Lake Hopatcong, NJ

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Jefferson Diner is something like famous, having been profiled on at least two basic cable channels and three different shows. It comes off almost like a parody of a diner, the neon and chrome exterior festooned with the kind of giant clock diners have, only it’s even bigger. The menu is where this really gets taken to heart. It’s a small novel, laminated and spiral bound, boasting everything from a 3 egg omelette to Mexican pizza. There are at least 61 sandwiches listed, not including hamburgers. There’s everything from a humble tuna melt to a harrowing so-called club sandwich involving mango, cheddar cheese, and mayonnaise. Offering a range of five dozen sandwiches seems like a great idea, but cold reality of things is that you can’t offer 61 quality sandwiches. It just can’t be done.

Some of the sandwiches at the Jefferson Diner are probably good. Some are probably very good. Just by virtue of volume, there has to be a winner somewhere between the Pastrami Sloppy Joe and the Here’s The Beef Club. Unable to sample the menu’s range, I ordered a simple classic. If you can’t handle the hopscotch that is an honest parm sandwich, I have little hope for your high-wire act.

You can see the results for yourself. Uneven distribution of sauce, a sandwich thrown together that I had to assemble on my own, and so much cheese you’d be forgiven for thinking I’d dropped my napkin in the photo. The veal was a bit dry, dashing any hope of a saving grace. Many of you are no doubt familiar with the platitude “Do one thing well.” I don’t think that’s gospel, but it’s a respectable idea well worth considering. The Jefferson Diner does one thing well, but unfortunately the thing they’ve chosen to do well is “Have a lot of things on the menu.”

#4 – Denaro’s Deli, Veteran’s Plaza, Dumont, NJ

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New Jersey is a land of nearly endless diners and delis, stretching along county routes and tucked everywhere you could think. The variance in quality is nearly endless, but the locals will generally steer you in the right direction. In my case, I was directed to Denaro’s, where I got the enormous sandwich shown above for $4. I thought this was a world where even the most meager, miserably foot long is $5, but apparently there are still decent, honest people selling submarine sandwiches.

As for the sandwich itself, it was quality. Regular readers know that I am no great fan of cold cuts, but it is worth noting that it is hardly fair of me to judge the whole category by their worst offenders. (That’s ham, for the record. Ham is the worst.) Stepping outside of the pedestrian cuts you often find a nice salami, capicola, or even some version of ham that isn’t the pink monstrosity found in so many tragic sandwiches. That’s the case with the #4 at Denaros, a mix of capicola, salami, provolone, and prosciuttini, a peppered ham that goes a long way towards improving the concept. There’s nothing special about the accouterments, just your usually lettuce/tomato/onion/oil & vinegar, but all of that capably executed plus a healthy dose of mustard, and you end up with a pretty fine sandwich, and for $4 it’s a pretty fine sandwich for a pretty fine deal.

Beef Tenderloin And Turkey Breast – FOOD, Pico Blvd, Los Angeles, CA

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FOOD is a small cafe on Pico that prides itself on using the finest ingredients. I do love a highfalutin sandwich, so that sort of thing is right up my alley and I was not disappointed with the first offering from FOOD. The roasted beef tenderloin is specified as Meyer’s, meaning it’s free of antibiotics and hormones and raised humanely. That’s the kind of thing that’s tough to verify on the consumer’s end, but it sure tasted like it was raised with care. (I question any definition of “humanely” that ends in slaughter, but that’s a debate for another blog.) It was tender, flavorful beef, well paired in thick slices with arugula, horseradish cream and roasted garlic-onion jam. The slice width becomes important, because the sandwich comes on a baguette that has a powerful crust, as a decent baguette should. That necessitates some serious chewing, and thick slices of beef are the kind of thing required to stand up to that effort. There was a good amount of horseradish here, and though I complain (as always) that it could have used more, I will say that it’s probably just right for your average sandwich enthusiast. The onion jam is sweet, well contrasting the beef and the horseradish. This is a fine sandwich, put together with care and consideration with a delicious result.

This was the oven roasted turkey breast, accompanied by Brie, arugula and cranberry chutney on ciabatta. Note the difference in bread, where a much softer roll pairs with the more yielding turkey. The pairing of cranberry and turkey is a classic, of course, extremely tasty in many instances. It was with the Brie where I felt this sandwich went wrong, and between this one and the French Bull at Bagel Maven I’m beginning to grow quite skeptical of about the role of brie on a sandwich. The BLT at The Oaks, while technically Camembert and not Brie, suffers from similar issues. The turkey was certainly overwhelmed here, and it seems to me that there isn’t much capable of standing up to any Brie that’s even slightly too far towards the ammonia end of the scale. It is possible that I’ve just not had the right Brie in the right sandwiches, but from here on out I’m proceeding with caution. Sans Brie this sandwich was quite tasty, and given the level of thought and care clearly put into each sandwich, it’s easy to forgive one that isn’t stellar. FOOD has a number of other sandwiches on their menu that look intriguing, and I wouldn’t hesitate to try any of them.

The German – Emil’s Swiss Pastry, Santa Monica Blvd, Los Angeles, CA

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Emil’s is first and foremost a bakery, and most of their attention goes into the cakes and the tarts and the macaroons and not into the sandwiches. This might spell doom at some establishments, but at Emil’s a secondary concern is still a concern, so despite the fact that the chicken schnitzel in the German sandwich was not fried fresh, care was still taken. It was placed by itself in the sandwich press while the rest of the sandwich was prepared, giving it an acceptable, if not quite full, level of crunch. The German is a simple sandwich, and the rest of the sandwich is simply tomatoes and cranberry sauce on Bavarian rye. There’s enough mayo to keep the bread from being soggy, but not enough to be noticeable otherwise.

Perhaps I’m guilty here of the soft bigotry of low expectations, but much of my pleasure with this sandwich stems from the fact that it could have been much worse. It could have been a soggy patty and soggier bread, a sorry sandwich carelessly tossed out by a place more concerned with cakes and other confectioneries. But it wasn’t. It was tasty enough. I’m not certain the tomatoes needed to be there, as the sweetness from the cranberries is far superior and not burdened by the mushy texture, and I would have used some of the balsamic that went on the spring mix on the sandwich to temper the sweetness a bit. So this could have been much better, but it could have been much worse. I often rail against ‘good enough,’ but I do so in the sense of lack of effort, of an acceptance of mediocre results. But there was care taken here to avoid the worst of outcomes, and so I feel comfortable in celebrating it for what it was: a pretty good sandwich.

La Cubana – Tortas Boos Voni, Mission St, San Francisco, CA

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I try to take all sandwich related requests and suggestions seriously, but time and opportunity often conspire to keep an establishment on the to-visit list for quite a while. Tortas Boos Voni is one such establishment: More than a year ago, I dined on a pair of tortas milanesa and began to think that there was a really special torta out there somewhere. In the comments, regular commentor Doug recommended Tortas Boos Voni. It was only last week that I visited, but mercy do I ever wish I’d gone sooner. Simply put, this was the best torta I’ve ever had. I decided to skip the milanesa and go for the cubana, simply because it’s a higher degree of difficulty. It includes two kinds of milanesa, that of beef and of chicken, as well as ham, hot dog, and a well spiced shredded chicken thigh, all in addition to the usual tomatoes, onion, and mayo.

Balance is important on a sandwich, but what the ideal sandwich really drives for is harmony. Balance is the easiest way to get there; making sure ingredients contrast each other and that one doesn’t stand too far above the others is an easy way of making sure everything works together. The route taken by sandwiches like the cubana is more challenging, but done right it’s perfectly effective. The recipe for the sandwich is meat, meat and more meat, but the harmony is there. The issue is that if something like this falls out of harmony, it’s a long way down. Should it go wrong, it is likely to go very, very wrong.

But the cubana at Tortas Boos Voni doesn’t go wrong. It’s worth noting that this was a massive sandwich, easily a foot long and more than six inches across, with no real taper to the bun. So you have a huge sandwich with five different kinds of meat; making this sandwich a success is not a task for beginners. Well, someone at Tortas Boos Voni has an experienced hand, because this was spectacular. Everything inside was hot and tender, the patties milanesa both crisp. The bread was well toasted and stayed crispy for the substantial length of time it took to eat the sandwich. There wasn’t enough avocado, the exact problem I had with the last cubana I ate, but it wasn’t enough to derail the overall quality. Given how good this sandwich and the one at Casita Chilanga were, I’m almost afraid of how good they would be if given a proper amount of avocado. That, I put it to you, is the mark of a good sandwich. It could be better, sure, but it’s a little scary to think about what that might mean.

Chicken Salad Sandwich – Little Chef Counter, San Pedro Sq, San Jose, CA

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Just because running around eating my favorite sandwiches wasn’t the best way to pay tribute to San Jose before I take my leave doesn’t mean I didn’t do it. I dearly wish Little Chef Counter had been around before my last year in this city, because they’re doing really wonderful things with sandwiches. My last experience there was disappointing, but every one before and since has been anything but. The chicken salad sandwich is the latest example of their excellent offerings: big chunks of chicken join Shashito peppers, romaine lettuce, peach jam, and a few slices of bacon on a hearty roll. There’s nothing too fancy going on here, just a very good sandwich. The bacon (as is so often the case) wasn’t strictly necessary, but it didn’t detract from things. The sweet flavor of the peach jam was the dominant note in the sandwich, and the chicken itself was very lightly dressed, everything I could have asked for. I’m sure there are fine sandwiches to be found in my new city, but I can guarantee you that on some warm afternoon I will find myself wondering what new sandwich Little Chef Counter has cooked up, and wishing that I were there to eat it.

Mother Sandwich – Klondike Pizza, S White Rd, San Jose, CA

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In discussions of what is and is not a sandwich, someone will often ask something along the lines of “Well, what if I folded a pizza in half?” That would not be a sandwich, it would be a folded pizza. But something about the idea takes hold of people, something about trying to bridge the gap between the mutually delicious worlds of pizza and sandwiches. The Mother Sandwich is one such attempt, pizza dough as flatbread, cooked crisp on both sides, holding mesquite chicken, Canadian bacon, lettuce, tomato, cheese and mayo. This is more bridge than imitation, the opposite of something like a pizza sandwich. That is much to its benefit, I think, because you end up focusing on the fact that you’re eating a sandwich instead of that you’re not eating pizza. The bread is the real draw here, and it’s a nice change of pace from your average roll or slice. It’s far from something I’d want to see often, but it’s crisp and it’s tasty. Everything else is more or less average, but ham/chicken/cheese is a classic combination for a reason, and together the whole sandwich rates as tasty enough. Ultimately, it’s just nice to see someone who can look at pizza dough, think ‘sandwich,’ and not end up with an ugly pile of nonsense leaking sauce everywhere.

Bánh Mì Thịt Nướng – Phat Tri, Thien Huong & Aroma Coffee and Snacks – San Jose, CA

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I wanted to say goodbye to San Jose. I’m moving to Los Angeles next week. I’m excited for that – regular access to Phillipe’s, to Original Tommy’s, to Canter’s. In my head I’m already there, but I don’t want to get ahead of myself. I owe San Jose something, and I hope I have done it justice. I could have gone around and revisited favorite sandwiches, but that didn’t feel like a fitting tribute. What did feel like a fitting tribute was to sit down to new sandwiches, because that’s what San Jose has always offered.

Phat Tri charges $4 for the above bánh mì, which would be steep for the east side if the above picture weren’t merely half of the sandwich. The thing is a monster, bigger than your forearm. There’s no quantity-for-quality switch going on either, this is a fine sandwich. Quality bread, fresh veggies, the meat is tender and has a strong garlic/lemongrass/soy savory quality to it. There are a dozen of these sorts of shops in San Jose, places that are always mentioned in the never-ending best bánh mì discussion.

I noticed Thien Huong while eating at Phat Tri. The had a “Grand Opening” sign out front, and I figured anyone with the guts to open across the street from a place with Phat Tri’s reputation had to have a lot of faith that their sandwich was something special. I don’t know if that’s what Thien Huong thinks about their sandwiches, but it should be. The meat here was piping hot, freshly seared and bursting with the sweet & salty notes of the classic thịt nướng marinade. For every place like Phat Tri, with a reputation and a leigion of devotees, there are a dozen places like Thein Huong. They’re upstarts, latecomers to a crowded market, people with something to prove. Some of them back it up, some of them don’t. They come and go, becoming almost haunting. Maybe the next one is better than this one. You won’t know until you’ve tried it.

Aroma Coffe & Snacks is three and a half miles from the other two establishments. That wouldn’t be so far, if the distance weren’t stuffed with more sandwich shops. Aroma is tucked in to the back half of a shopping center that sits perpendicular to the street, it’s a little tough to see even when you’re looking for it. Seeking it out is worth the effort. Their thịt nướng is deeply caramelized, chewy and full of flavor. For every Thien Huong, there are another handful of Aroma Coffee & Snacks. Great sandwiches that leave you unsettled over how good the sandwiches might be at all the places you haven’t made the time to try.

I’ll be able to get a bánh mì in Los Angeles, but it won’t be like this. I could go try a new sandwich every weekend for a year and I wouldn’t have to double back. Most of them would be pretty good. The bánh mì is going places, and some day it will be widely popular and too big to really get a head around. When that happens, I’ll remember a city that did its damnedest to give a wonderful sandwich everything it deserved. Thanks for all the sandwiches, San Jose.