Tag Archives: Reviews by Bill

Pulled Porkstravaganza — The Oinkster, Colorado Blvd., Los Angeles

Posted on by

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.

 

Pulled Porkstravaganza — The Duck Deli, Duck, NC

Posted on by

 

We here at On Sandwiches have never made any bones about our deep and abiding lovefor 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.

Today’s pulled pork sandwich is a bit of a departure, since it does not feature pork. The Duck Deli, located in the minuscule town of Duck in the Outer Banks of North Carolina, is locally famous for its in-house smoked meats. Said meats can be fashioned into meals or platters for in-house or takeaway dining, or you can simply opt to carry out an entire chicken or side of beef or whatever you desire.

I had gone into the Duck Deli with my eye on the Chopped Texas Beef Brisket Sandwich, but was informed that they were fresh out of brisket. Looking over the remaining sandwich options, I felt compelled to opt for the Pulled Chicken over the pulled pork option. Chicken that comes with a smoke ring is a rare occurrence (or at least, rarer than it ought to be).

The pulled chicken came as most pulled pork sandwiches often do: meat and sauce on a bun. No need for putting on airs. The chicken was indeed quite good and flavorful, and the sauce was just fine. The only real downside was that the bread was a bit too spongy. Good for soaking up sauce and containing a potentially messy sandwich, but bad for chewing and swallowing.

This was a slightly above-average sandwich, but showed the pulled meat genre often stands on its own. You needn’t add bells and whistles to have a satisfying sandwich. If the meat is the star of the sandwich, you oughtn’t drown it in a gimmicky sauce. One needs to have confidence in the ingredients. You’ll find, more often than not, that they will sort out the rest.

 

Pulled Porkstravaganza — Dave’s Chillin’ and Grillin’, Colorado Blvd., Los Angeles, CA

Posted on by

We here at On Sandwiches have never made any bones about our deep and abiding lovefor 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.

We visited Dave’s Chillin’ and Grillin’ not too long ago and tried one of his unorthodox daily specials. The pulled pork at Dave’s is another daily special, made once per week. Dave slow-cooks the pork in-house for hours before adding to it his homemade bourbon barbecue sauce and spicy slaw. The week I stopped by for a pulled pork sandwich, the bourbon of choice was Wild Turkey.

The sandwich was very tasty, but really wasn’t exemplary of what a pulled pork sandwich can be. I feel that, if you’re going to the trouble to get up well before sunrise and make your pork in-house, you should really let the pork itself be the star of the show. Unlike some eateries, you can have bragging rights. “Hey, you like that pork? I made it with my own two hands.” I have first-hand knowledge that there really is nothing like pulled pork that has been made with care. The spicy slaw and the bourbon sauce were good, and either one on a sandwich would be a lovely grace note. You pair both of these strong flavors with the pulled pork, and the sauces become the star of the show. That’s all well and good, but that isn’t what a pulled pork sandwich should strive to be.

Dave is a fan of his spice, as we found with the Surf and Turf. Sometimes it works in his favor, sometimes it works against the sandwich, and sometimes, like with the pulled pork, you have a perfectly acceptable sandwich that perhaps falls short of its potential.

Pulled Porkstravaganza, Part One — Lucille’s Smokehouse BBQ, West Chapman Avenue, Orange, CA

Posted on by

 
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.

Lucille’s Smokehouse is a chain of BBQ restaurants in California, Nevada, and Arizona. They smoke their meats in-house and offer fine, traditional barbecue fare with ample portions. I have eaten there before and been extremely pleased.

Lucille’s offers three different pulled pork sandwich options: Original, Memphis Style, and Carolina Style. As we shall get into in future Porkstravaganza posts, the type of sauce offered with a pulled pork sandwich can, more often than not, tell the entire tale. I opted for Carolina Style, and I believe this is where I made my mistake.

I am a fan of spicy foods, although it must be in moderation. I am not one of those types who seeks out “the hottest hot sauce known to man” as a lark. Nor am I the type of person who, seeing a menu where the hot sauce options are presented in a graph resembling a thermometer, would motion anywhere near the top third when making my selection. Lucille’s billed their Carolina Style pulled pork sandwich as being tossed in a “tangy” East Carolina BBQ sauce.

When I think of the word “tangy,” it does not begin to describe what occurred when I took my first bite of this sandwich. I inhaled sharply, my eyes watered, and I fumbled for my water glass. This was beyond “tangy,” my friends. The sauce was so overwhelmingly hot, that I could scarcely finish the sandwich. The smoked pork, although fine, was lost in the heat of the sauce. It was a decent sandwich, and would have been just the thing if I were in the mood for an overwhelmingly spicy meal, but I will stick to less “tangy” options in the future.

 

Lazy Chicken — The Coffee Table Bistro, Colorado Boulevard, Los Angeles

Posted on by

It’s rare that one encounters a sandwich that lives up to its name in a most unfortunate way. The “Big Nasty” was indeed big, and nasty-looking, but tasted great. The Lazy Chicken, I can only assume, is named after the care with which it was dreamed up, assembled, and presented.

It’s also rare that you’ll find me complain about a sandwich being given too plentiful a portion of its key ingredient. The Lazy Chicken consisted of grilled chicken breast, avocado, swiss, bacon, lettuce, tomato, and herb mayo on an onion roll. The picture does not tell the tale, but the chicken breast was simply enormous, spilling out at either end and probably an inch thick. just a giant chicken breast, slapped haphazardly onto a bun that could neither contain it nor hold up to the act of eating.

All main elements here were disappointing. The chicken was flavorless and a chore to eat. The bacon was burnt — burnt! — and the roll was overtoasted, dry, and the overall effect of such a lousy roll paired with such a massive slab of bland meat made the meal arduous rather than satisfying. File the Lazy Chicken under the “truth in advertising” file, and stay far, far away from this one.

 

Cheese Steak — Outer Banks Cheese Steaks, Austin St., Corolla, NC

Posted on by

The esteemed founder of this enterprise had an all-too-common experience with a cheese steak in the Bay Area of Northern California. As I have said in the past, I am forever intrigued by geographically-famous sandwiches, and perhaps equally as intrigued by sandwich shops that appear to be a bit out-of-place.

Since I have never visited Philadelphia, I have never had the opportunity to have a “true” cheesesteak, or indeed even a tasty approximation thereof. Finding myself in North Carolina, and finding my initial destination of a deli closed for renovation, I spied Outer Banks Cheese Steaks tucked away in the back of a shopping center. I figured, since this was as close to Philadelphia as I was liable to get for the foreseeable future, why not give it a whirl?

My first order of business was to find out how authentic an operation this was. I inquired as to the use of Cheez-Whiz. The woman manning the counter and the grill (for they were nearly one and the same) replied, in moderately offended tones, that the cheese in use was provolone. I opted for the classic cheesesteak, and further opted for onions and peppers, as I feared a large roll filled with steak and mild cheese would be too monotonous.

As it turned out, the roll was the tastiest part of the sandwich. A true grinder, it held the sloppy components admirably and provided pleasing flavor and texture. The rest of the sandwich was bland, bland, bland. The grilled vegetables had nearly no flavor at all, and the cheese was somehow lost, even though the steak appeared to have been minced and cooked with no seasoning whatsoever.

It was sustenance, to be sure. But one wonders as to the value of a large amount of nearly-flavorless food.

 

Surf and Turf — Dave’s Chillin’ and Grillin’, Colorado Blvd., Los Angeles

Posted on by

Dave’s Chillin’ and Grillin’ is a site that will be featured again on this site in the not-too-distant future. The eponymous proprietor of this particular establishment is a Boston transplant who, dismayed that he was unable to find a quality sandwich in Los Angeles, set up shop in the Eagle Rock neighborhood. Dave’s is the closest sandwich establishment to my residence, and luckily one of the best.

As I headed into Dave’s yesterday, I noted that the chalkboard on the sidewalk listed specials for Tuesday through Friday, leading me to believe Monday had no such featured sandwich. Still, I verified this was the case at the counter, and was told that today’s special was the “Surf and Turf.” I was then informed that this was a tuna and pastrami sandwich. I imagine my eyebrows must have leaped nearly off my forehead. Not only did this sound like a sandwich so interesting that I simply had to try it, but it allowed me to test my newly-minted theory that pastrami was the perfect complementary sandwich meat. I felt that if anything would stretch the theory to its limits, it must be this.

The Surf and Turf was basically a tuna melt with pastrami, as touted. Tuna salad, pastrami, tomato, and cheese sauce grilled on white, with Dave’s signature red pepper spread. On my first bite, I was disappointed. But then I paused, and thought about a normal tuna melt. This was markedly better. I suppose I expected the sandwich to be transcendent, but armed with my new point of reference, my theory held up, and I was treated to a very fine sandwich indeed. The pastrami was indeed a fine counterbalance to the tuna, which itself was a step or two above most sandwich shops. Nice, large chunks of tuna, light on mayonnaise, and with a healthy dose of pepper.

If I were to construct this sandwich myself, I would do things just a bit differently. I feel that the cheese sauce would work better if it were replaced by actual slices of cheese. I feel that the inclusion of tomato, if it must be added, would only benefit with adding either onion or lettuce, or both, after the two halves of the sandwich came off the grill, for a true snap and added texture. My final quibble is, I feel, merely a byproduct of having partaken of Dave’s so often. His patented red pepper spread, which really makes his meatball and his sausage subs something unique, was good on this sandwich, but perhaps just a soupcon  of overkill. A solid brown or whole-grain mustard would have been just as good, and wouldn’t have overwhelmed the meats quite so much. But overall, a lovely surprise of an unorthodox sandwich. I imagine I’ll find a reason to return on a Monday soon enough.

 

The Sailor — Granby Bistro and Deli, Granby Street, Norfolk, VA

Posted on by

Every now and again, a menu item may jump out to you and seem just a bit out of the norm, just slightly left of center, and just original enough that you feel as though you couldn’t possibly pass it up. The Sailor at Granby Bistro and Deli stood out to me in particular because of my recent at-home experimentation with sausages and what sandwiches they can become.

The Sailor is the most complex simple sandwich I’ve encountered in some time. It consists of pastrami, knockwurst, Swiss cheese, and “bistro sauce” (Russian dressing, as you’d expect) on rye bread. It’s a very interesting spin on a traditional deli sandwich, and I was more than rewarded for spying it on the menu. The ingredients meshed better than I could have hoped. I’m finding more and more that, although pastrami is a fine meat in and of itself, it is the perfect complementary or supporting meat in a two-meat (or more) sandwich. It is to sandwiches what vodka is to mixed drinks: versatile, unobtrusive, and reliable. If you are in Norfolk and in need of a tasty and satisfying sandwich, I cannot recommend The Sailor enough.

 

“The Big Nasty” — McAlister’s Deli, Cleveland International Airport, Cleveland, OH

Posted on by

There are many cities in the United States that have a signature sandwich, or claim to. My goal is to one day try them all. For some reason, when I recently had a layover in Cleveland, I was convinced that Cleveland’s claim to sandwich fame was the “Hot Brown.” It wasn’t until I returned home and looked up the history of the Hot Brown for a refresher that I was reminded it is actually Kentucky’s signature sandwich, not Cleveland’s. Nevertheless, I was able to find a type of Hot Brown represented at Cleveland International, and adopted a “when in Rome” attitude toward the endeavor.

A bit of background info on the “Hot Brown”: traditionally, this is an open-faced sandwich with turkey and bacon, covered in a bechamel cheese sauce and broiled until the sauce is browned. Leaving aside the obvious fact that an open-faced sandwich is not a sandwich, the “Big Nasty” on offer at McAlister’s Deli is a Hot Brown in spirit only, similar to how a Twinkie could be viewed as a type of eclair.

“The Big Nasty” is roast beef and cheese piled atop a quartered foot-long baguette, and the diner is presented with a tub of gravy to pour on top, and a knife and fork with which to consume the beast. I could have attempted to assemble the bread quarters into a couple of makeshift “gravy-dip” sandwiches, but that is not what we do here. It is our business to consume menu items as presented, and as intended, be they sandwich or merely masquerading as one. I am pleased to report that, although far from being a sandwich (and looking like a horror show), “The Big Nasty” — as is the case with many truly indulgent foods — tasted miles better than it looked. The baguette was fresh and withstood the dampness of the endeavor, the roast beef was tasty and plentiful, and the gravy was wonderful and tied everything together. Not a sandwich, not a Hot Brown, and not in the correct city, but I feel I made the right choice.

Pizza Steak – Mick’s Sub Shop, Lindley Ave., Encino, CA

Posted on by


Many times, when at a new establishment with an eye toward a sandwich to review, one must opt for the road less traveled. One cannot always expect a sandwich counter to offer anything beyond “Roast Beef Sandwich” or “Turkey Sandwich” or “Cold Cut Combo.” Thus, while scanning the board at Mick’s Sub Shop, the words “Pizza Steak” jumped out at me and I was forced to inquire. I was informed that the sandwich consisted of “steak,” grilled onions, pizza sauce, and mozzarella. Intrigued by what sounded like a beef parmigiana sandwich, I placed my order.

The end result was, perhaps, less than it could have been. But it could also have been much, much worse. The first notable aspect of the sandwich was that the large was cut into thirds, an anomaly if there ever was one. The grilled onions were hardly more than warmed, and if they were properly browned and caramelized, I feel it would have contributed a great deal toward making this a better sandwich.

As I elaborated in last week’s post, too often is sliced roast beef presented as “steak,” but in the case of presented a sandwich called “pizza steak,” one can forgive the euphemism. This was a greasy and strange sandwich, although not actively bad. I cannot in good conscience recommend the item, but I will say this: the third of the sandwich that I took home with me was immensely better two days later, eaten cold out of the refrigerator, than the two thirds I consumed fresh and hot inside Mick’s.