I make no secret of my cheese skepticism, and a melt is an unlikely choice for me. There’s almost always something else I’d rather try, and trying a sandwich built around cheese runs a high risk. But it’s still a subject worth exploring, so I have this sandwich and two grilled cheeses coming up next week. Here we have two pieces of melted swiss surrounding grilled chicken, romaine lettuce and caesar dressing. I wasn’t expecting much, but I was pleasantly surprised by a well balanced sandwich; the dressing helped cut the flavors, the grilled chicken was flavorful and a welcome texture, and the lettuce provided a nice earthy undertone. The bread didn’t wow me, but it was decent enough. I came away satisfied, and sometimes that’s all you can hope for from a sandwich.
Tag Archives: Los Angeles
Bacon and Egg Breakfast Sandwich — Johny’s Kitchen, Cal State Los Angeles
I have consumed a great many meals on a good many college campuses in my time. Truly, some of my fondest sandwich memories have come from on-campus or campus-adjacent eateries: the truly spectacular but pricey sandwiches from the Ord Market on the territory that comprises CSU Monterey Bay; the turkey and Swiss croissant microwaved with love and served out of a small shack in the middle of San Francisco State.
California State University, Los Angeles is heavy on the name-brand fast food and light on the independent sandwich shop or eatery. There is, however, a storefront in the food court called Johny’s Kitchen, which appears to be a singular entity. The menu is far-reaching diner fare, and when I found myself in need of a quick breakfast, I gave them a shot.There were half a dozen breakfast sandwich options or slight variation: bacon and egg, sausage and egg, ham and egg, etc. served on one’s choice of bread. I opted for the bacon and egg on wheat, and unfortunately, was served a sandwich that will in no way hold a special place in my heart.
There was a significant quantity of egg…I would say between two and three eggs, and a few strips of bacon served on two pieces of slightly grilled toast. There was no butter on the bread, no seasoning in the eggs, and no other element to the sandwich. It is among the blandest sandwiches I have ever encountered. Even a dash of salt and pepper would have made the sandwich exponentially better. I can’t imagine that the other bread choices of rye, white, or sourdough would have improved the sandwich, either. We talk a lot about the unnecessary inclusion of cheese in sandwiches, but any cheese at all on this sandwich would have been a marked and welcome improvement.
As I chewed and swallowed this massive, warm wad of egg with an extremely slight bacon flavor, I reflected on the fact that one of the breakfast sandwich options was merely “double egg.” I felt a deep sadness for any unfortunate soul who elected to travel that unappetizing road.
The Godfather – All About The Bread, Melrose Ave, Los Angeles, CA
As I spent some time last week maligning Subway for their woefully inadequate bread, I thought it would be as good a time as any to talk about one of the better offerings out there. In the Subway post I mentioned that I can forgive people for crowing about great bread, and All About the Bread is certainly crowing. It’s in the name, of course, and they make sure to inform you that the bread is baked fresh every 30 minutes. I’m not exactly sure what that means. Am I getting the bread that’s fresh out of the oven? Do you take a batch, sell what you can in a half hour, then throw the remainder away and start fresh? While the specifics are hazy the implication is clear: This is fresh bread. As for the rest of what’s on display here, The Godfather is a pretty standard Italian sub. The ingredients vary a little depending on where you are, and All About the Bread features spicy capocollo, mortadella, prosciutto, ham, salami and provolone on the namesake bread. I thought it was OK, but enough of my associates proclaimed it too heavy on the mustard and hot peppers that I feel obligated to pass that information on to you. Considered apart from the sandwich, though, the bread was spectacular. The crust is marvelously crisp, having bubbled up into a crackly shell just waiting for your bite to smash through. The interior of the bread is soft and light, not tasteless but willingly playing a supporting roll to the sandwich. Although I would likely steer clear of The Godfather again, they offer a number of other sandwiches your humble enthusiast is anxious to pair up with that outstanding bread.
Chicken Torta — Eagle Rock Music Festival, Los Angeles
Street fairs and similar festivals are an interesting time for cuisine, particularly in Los Angeles, where the food truck and the street vendor are at the same time a ubiquitous staple and a hipsterish fad. The recent Eagle Rock Music Festival had the featured food trucks you would expect, as well as the open restaurants and scattered food booths along a jam-packed Colorado Boulevard, but also featured an interesting “food court” down a side street. It was at this food court that I saw a large banner over a crowded stall that proclaimed “SUPER TORTAS.” Whether this was a descriptor of the product, a hyperbolic boast, or simply the name of the proprietary enterprise, I could not ascertain. I was merely certain that I would be ordering a torta.
Following a prolonged and too-complicated ordering process, I was presented with a chicken torta and a pork-and-cheese pupusa. Since this is not “On Pupusas,” I shall restrict my commentary to the former.
As I carried my torta the few blocks home, to enjoy my repaste in comfort at the end of a very long day, I did not have high hopes for the sandwich. Certainly I have an ideal against which all future tortas will be measured, which does a grave disservice to both myself and the unfortunate new torta. The chicken torta from the Music Festival featured minced and grilled chicken, lettuce, and tomato. The grilled roll was given a healthy coat of what appeared to be mayonnaise, and a liberal ladle of salsa was applied to the sandwich just before assembly was completed atop the grill.
To say I was pleasantly surprised would be an understatement. By all rights, this sandwich should not have been as good as it was. The chicken was sparse and of low quality. The salsa and grease had soaked through the bottom half of the roll, making it something just this side of “a sloppy mess.” And yet…this torta was absolutely delicious. The marriage of the salsa, mayonnaise, and chicken was approaching sublime. It had far more kick than you would expect from this sandwich, and yet the heat and spice was never overpowering. The bread was of a much higher quality than I expected, and the torta absolutely hit the spot with this weary traveler. My only regret lies in not being able to divine the name of this establishment, so that I may visit their truck or storefront again in the future. Alas.
The Original — Galco’s Soda Pop Stop, York Boulevard, Los Angeles
Galco’s Soda Pop Stop is a world-famous soda store. The owner and founder of Galco’s had a lifelong passion for all things soda pop, and wanted to collect as many varieties as possible in one place for a thirsty public. He took over an old supermarket and began ordering in every type of soda from every soda brewery, no matter how small. The end result is a can’t-miss haven of carbonated beverages.
Along the back wall of Galco’s, inhabiting the area where a meat and fish counter doubtlessly one stood, is a small area where one can order one of a dozen sandwiches. My first couple of trips to Galco’s were naturally so focused on soda purchases that I didn’t even notice the sandwich counter there. Naturally, once I noticed it, it was added to my list. I have spoken before about sandwiches in unusual venues, so I couldn’t pass this one up.
Most of the sandwiches on the board are labeled under the title “Blockbuster” — the Turkey Blockbuster, the Roast Beef Blockbuster, and so on — although the ingredients didn’t hold any clues as to what might be the blockbusting nature of said items. They seemed fairly straightforward and pedestrian (not that this is necessarily a bad thing). Luckily, I spied an item listed as “The Original.” If I’m going to try a sandwich from a soda stop, I may as well go with their first creation, mayn’t I?
The Original is Italian dry salami, mortadella, salami cotta, ham, mayo, mustard, pickles, and provolone on a french roll.The menu takes care to note that The Orginial is the only sandwich served without lettuce and tomato. I felt this was an important distinction to make, and that the sandwich makers at Galco’s knew better than I what should appear on any given sandwich.
I want to take a moment to compare the sandwich at Galco’s with a sandwich from the Eagle Rock Italian Deli. At the Italian Deli, you get fresh-sliced meats and cold cuts that are carved to order and placed on a roll that is baked in-house daily. At Galco’s, you get cold cuts out of a package which are placed on a french roll out of another package. I’m not faulting Galco’s for not having specialty ingredients at a small counter in the rear of a defunct grocery store, but perhaps I am faulting them for the fact that their sandwiches are more expensive than those at the Italian Deli. The overhead on these sandwiches has to be incredibly low, particularly when the mustard in question is of the “yellow” variety.
The sandwich was disappointing in several respects. The various cold cuts, which appear plentiful in the above picture, are bunched up in the center both along the length and width of the sandwich. The spongy bread, although perhaps the highlight of the sandwich, becomes 80% of any given bite beyond the first couple mouthfuls of either half of the sandwich. The other great failing of this sandwich, I believe, has much to do with the quality of the cold cuts used. Such a melange of cold cuts, were they freshly sliced and of a discerning quality, might be pulled off by the Italian Deli (although they usually, and wisely, stick to one type of cold cut per sandwich), but when you have four different types of cold cut all yanked from a package — packages undoubtedly emblazoned with “Oscar Meyer” or “Foster Farms” — and slathered in a hefty coat of mayonnaise and yellow mustard, without even lettuce and tomato (adamantly), the overall effect was that I was eating a bologna sandwich.
I’ve eaten bologna sandwiches often during my lifetime, but I don’t believe I’ve ever paid for the pleasure of someone preparing one for me. And I’ve certainly never paid someone nine dollars for an unevenly-distributed bologna sandwich. The Original could save a lot of money by simply dropping the pretense and offering bologna sandwiches. Then they wouldn’t have to open four packages every day. They’d only have to open one.
Steak Torta — Porto’s Bakery, North Brand Boulevard, Glendale, CA
We’ve visited Porto’s before, and we’re certainly no stranger to either steak sandwiches or tortas. The last Porto’s sandwich featured here was a rare miss from an otherwise exemplary sandwich shop and bakery, and it’s nice to showcase a sandwich that really points out how much the establishment shines when it plays to its strengths.
The steak torta is grilled steak, cotija cheese, guacamole, lettuce, tomato, and black bean spread on a French round. The bread, baked in-house, is marvelous. The grilled steak is flavorful, even though it is the normal torta-quality steak you would expect. The true star of the show, however is the black bean spread. Porto’s uses this on several sandwiches, and the first time I took a bite of one, my mind burst into a fire of one vital question: “WHY ISN’T THIS ON EVERY SANDWICH?” The black bean spread is something that, as soon as you taste it, you wonder why you haven’t thought of it before. It adds a welcome earthiness and savoury element that so many unneeded vegetables can only hope to aspire to.
This sandwich is nothing short of a delight, a wonderful balance of creaminess, firmness, and a wide flavor palate. The bread holds everything together perfectly and although the cheese may be a bit lost, you’ll find the experience pleasing in every way.
Western Tri-Tip Sandwich — Wood Ranch, The Grove, Los Angeles
We have spoken before about the very few different options for a steak sandwich. The Wood Ranch, known for its premium meats and barbecue, which you can order in large quantities to take home a la carte, offers only the “chopped meat” version of the steak sandwich, but thankfully does it well. There are two tri-tip sandwiches on offer, and the “Western” option is a bit more intriguing. Consisting of tri-tip, Monterey jack cheese, sauteed onions and peppers, it is served with what the menu boasts is “real au jus,” which makes one wonder what was in all of those other bowls of drippings we have been consuming for years, and more importantly, what is in this one.
When I first ordered the item, I missed the “real au jus” on the menu, so when the sandwich was delivered, I feared that I had mistakenly ordered nothing more than a gussied-up diner French dip. Thankfully, the onions and peppers were flavorful and provided actual taste to the sandwich, in stark contrast to a sandwich like the tepid cheesesteak of North Carolina. The Monterey jack also brought a fine element to the sandwich, rather than being lost. This was a surprisingly well-balanced sandwich, and tasted fine both with the au jus and without. (The au jus was just as flavorful as any other au jus I have heretofore encountered, regardless of its highly-touted authenticity.) Although this wasn’t anything ground-breaking, sometimes a pleasing sandwich experience comes down to whether you can taste the vegetables.
Breakfast Sandwich – Kevaccino’s On The Beach, Vista Del Mar, Los Angeles, CA
I have a special place in my heart for the breakfast sandwich. Simply put, there’s no better way to start a day than with a good sandwich. It sets your spirit right and sends you into the world sated and ready for anything. A good breakfast sandwich doesn’t need to be complicated, but trying something a little bit more involved can often yield an excellent sandwich. On one recent cloudy morning, while cycling between Venice and Manhattan beaches, I stopped for a bite to eat. The breakfast sandwich at Kevaccino’s seems on the simple end of the spectrum, being listed on the menu board as simply eggs and cheese. An addition of avocado and having the sandwich grilled are offered, and I took advantage of both options. I’m not a man to pass up and avocado, and if you’re not dealing with a roll, toasting or grilling bread for a breakfast sandwich is almost mandatory.
The basics of the sandwich are on point. As you can see in the photo, the sandwich had a substantial amount of scrambled egg, and it was light, fluffy and moist. The cheese was a fine sharp cheddar and there wasn’t too much of it. The grilled was very light, just enough to give the bread a crunch without really trying to brown it. That leaves one remaining hurdle: The avocado. I’m sorry to say that that’s where the sandwich stumbled.
Making my way through the first half the sandwich, I gradually came to realize something was not quite right. Peeling open the second half of the sandwich my suspicions were confirmed. What you see above is the entire amount of avocado provided on one half of the sandwich. The first half contained a similar amount. Combined, the two would struggle to equal even half of the most diminutive avocado. The avocado was not a casual “extra peppers” sort of addition to the sandwich. It was a specific option for which I tendered an additional dollar. I can appreciate that a restaurateur operates between thin margins, but what I saw in that sandwich strains the boundaries of what I can accept. I looked down at the second half of that sandwich and I felt cheated. This, I suppose, is the risk in pinning the start of your day to a sandwich. When it goes well, you set off with your best foot forward and greet everyone you meet with a smile and an open heart. If it goes wrong, though, if some charlatan, some rogue takes your money and delivers only the barest pittance of what he has promised, then what faith can you be expected to have in the world at large?
USDA Prime Beef French Dip – Cole’s, 6th St, Los Angeles, CA
Having featured (and highly praised) the French Dip from Phillipe’s, it is only fair that I give a chance to the other establishment claiming to have invented the sandwich. Where Phillipe’s claimed a roll was inadvertently dropped into a pan of jus, Cole’s story is that such a dip was made intentionally, to cater to a customer with sore gums. I’m not sure which story is true, and to be frank I don’t care. It’s the sandwiches I’m after, not the trivia.
This is the beef dip, where the linked Phillipe’s sandwich is the pork dip. I’ve tried the beef and the pork at both places, so forgive me for jumping back & forth while only having a picture of one or the other. I suppose the simplest way to do this is to simply run down who does what better. The beef dip is better at Phillipe’s, and the pork dip is better at Cole’s. The fact that the pork dip is listed above the beef on Cole’s menu suggests that maybe they’re aware that their pork supersedes the beef. Whether they know it or not, though, those are the facts as I see them. The associated matters seem an even draw. The mustard at Phillipe’s is smooth and yellow with a substantial amount of horseradish, the mustard at Cole’s is pale and features even more horseradish, present in shreds. The atmospheres of the establishments differ significantly, Cole’s being a restaurant with subdued lighting and a bar that can put forth a very impressive old fashioned. Phillipe’s, meanwhile, is bright and the shared seating is bustling with familes, the young and old and everyone in between. Cole’s serves the sandwich with a small cup of jus and you dip on your own, at Phillipe’s the sandwich is dipped before it’s handed to you. All told I prefer Phillipe’s mustard and dipping style, but the old fashioned really is spectacular and I can easily see someone preferring Cole’s.
Neither the pork at Phillipe’s nor the beef at Cole’s is bad, both are very good, incredibly tasty sandwiches. It’s just that someone on the other side of town does it better. In a bit of symmetry, though, each establishment wins a particular category and the contest of the whole can only be called a draw. While some may see this result as something of a letdown, I can’t see it as anything but the best possible outcome. Think of it! Any one of us can travel to Los Angeles, patronize one or both historical establishments and eat a delicious sandwich. No matter which you choose you are unlikely to walk away unsatisfied. Truly, the winner here is neither Cole’s nor Phillipe’s but your humble sandwich enthusiast.
Pulled Porkstravaganza — The Oinkster, Colorado Blvd., Los Angeles
We here at On Sandwiches have never made any bones about our deep and abiding love for the pulled pork sandwich. In August, we are showcasing some of our recent pulled pork experiences and seeing how they stack up against one another, and against our idea of what a pulled pork sandwich should be.
Some time ago, our esteemed founder had an unfortunate experience at The Oinkster in Los Angeles. His pulled pork sandwich did not include Carolina BBQ sauce and he was left wanting. This is understandable. If you order one thing expecting another, you will usually be let down. As park of Pulled Porkstravaganza, I am here to offer my own humble take on The Oinkster’s product.
I’m something of a regular to The Oinkster. I have reviewed one of their sandwiches before and I often find myself heading there rather than Dave’s, although the two establishments are in extremely close proximity. What I have gleaned from my many visits to the Oinkster is that they often forget to include containers of Carolina sauce with the pulled pork sandwich, particularly when the order is placed for carryout. On the surface, this seems like a gross oversight. The sauce is for the sandwich. Wouldn’t it stand to reason that this is something that should be tossed in the bag without a second thought?
In truth, I probably ordered and consumed half a dozen of their pulled pork sandwiches before I ever beheld a ramekin of the rumored sauce. It didn’t actually matter to me. I find the sandwich extremely satisfying on its own merits. The pork is savory, juicy, and chock-full of delicious bark. The included onion and cabbage, which seems on the surface nothing more than something to stave off boredom, actually adds immense flavor and makes the sandwich whole. My suspicion is that these two simple ingredients trick the employees of The Oinkster into thinking that the sandwich is complete after being assembled. And you know what? They’re right.
As I said, I had eaten a good many of these sandwiches before the sauce presented itself to me. Up until that point, it was my “go-to” pulled pork sandwich. An extremely filling meal with a very pleasing flavor. I admit to having an affinity for the fries at The Oinkster, but every time I ordered the sandwich, I looked forward to it immensely.
But then…the sauce. The sauce is always served on the side, never on the sandwich, and I imagine there are many customers, like our esteemed founder, who arrive home, find no sauce in the bag, and sullenly chew their drier-than-they-were-expecting sandwich. I can further imagine there are customers who dine in, receive no sauce on the sandwich, are not given sauce on the side, and assume there is no sauce to be had. Some of these people are bound to be let down, or else are unfamiliar with the tropes of the pulled pork sandwich, or assume this is a new “spin” on an old classic.
The sauce is, in a word, perfect. Not too tangy, not too sweet. It was made just for this sandwich, and this sandwich for it. Similar to the sandwiches at Philippe’s, one may, if one wishes, apply sauce to each bite, or take one side of the bread away and pour the sauce on the whole enterprise, or hold your wrapped half of the sandwich upright and allow the sauce to work its way down into the sandwich of its own accord. It’s up to the individual.
I feel this is what truly sets this sandwich apart from most other pulled pork endeavors I have encountered: the sandwich is good with any amount of sauce, or without any at all. Depending on the amount of sauce you apply, you can have a different experience every time. This is fantastic. From the first time I encountered the sauce, this was transformed from my “go-to” to my favorite pulled pork sandwich. Try it both ways. Then try it a few more. You won’t be sorry.
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