Tag Archives: Sandwiches Made For Me

#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.

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.

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.

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.

Fat Sal & Fat Jerry – Fat Sal’s Deli, Gayley Ave, Los Angeles, CA

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“A taste of New York in Los Angeles” my eye. That was the line on Fat Sal’s deli from a local newspaper, a taste of New York in Los Angeles. I’ve lived in New York. I’ve eaten my share of sandwiches there. New York sandwiches are the reason this blog exists. You know what people who make sandwiches in New York know how to do? They know how to make an appetizing sandwich. There are a variety of ways to do this, but here’s one sure-fire come up short: stuff a hero roll with every blasted thing you can think of. Take the Fat Sal, the namesake sandwich pictured above. A garlic hero struggles to contain roast beef, mozzarella sticks, onion rings, fries, brown gravy and mayonnaise. In an abysmal case of subtraction by addition, that massive pile of stuff turns into an ugly mash of gravy, breading, and mayo. I can’t think of a single place in New York City that would offer me the above.
The Fat Jerry isn’t any better. Cheesesteak, chicken fingers, mozzarella sticks, bacon, fried egg, mayonnaise, ketchup and salt and pepper overwhelm a poor hero roll. Where the Fat Sal tasted of gravy, this one was all breading and egg.

In truth, I saw this coming. The mozzarella sticks are the giveaway. I’m sure mozzarella sticks have a fair place on a sandwich, but I’ve never seen them in any context other than an intentionally wacky, get-a-load-of-this sort of sandwich. It’s a flag, flown high and with pride, signalling that restraint has been abandoned, good sense jettisoned. Aren’t we crazy? mozzarella sticks ask, and I can only think to reply yes, yes you are.

I get that the things I’m complaining about are the entire point of the endeavor, but a bad idea executed as intended is still a bad idea. I dined here with my esteemed associate Bill, who pointed out that for all the ingredients in essence what you had was a bland gravy sandwich and a bland egg sandwich. For such large sandwiches, he remarked, they were surprisingly small. That might be the most damning thing, that for all their swagger, these sandwiches are nothing more than blowhards. I know New York, Sal. New York was very good to me. You’re no taste of New York.

Winston’s Vesper – Big Word Cafe, Saratoga Sunnyvale Rd, Saratoga, CA

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Here we have a fine counter example to Monday’s meager offering of a sandwich. All the way on the other side of town, nearly a dollar and a half less than what I paid at Caffe Frascati nets me a much more satisfying sandwich. A few hearty slices of cumin spiced roast pork, a house made mango ginger chutney, roasted red peppers, cucumbers and spinach all pile on a white roll and come together quite nicely. This was clearly a sandwich from a coffee bar; it was served cold, and alltogether wasn’t quite everything it could have been. It was also missing the clear freshness that benefited the recent sandwich featured from Coach House, but despite all of that it was still quite good. The pork was well seasoned and tender, the chutney sweet with clear hints of ginger cutting through, the spinach a nice earthy undertone. This was just a good example of what I wish places like Caffe Frascati understood: A good sandwich isn’t hard, you just have to try. A little effort goes a long way, and at Big Word Cafe it went all the way to a delicious sandwich.

Vege Smoked Duck & Vege Pepper Steak – Love and Haight, Haight St, San Francisco, CA

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The smoked duck sandwich at Love and Haight is not actually made of duck. Similarly, the pepper steak sandwich involves no actual steak. They are meat substitutes, products where soybeans and other such things are processed to resemble meat. I’ve considered such things before, and ultimately I concluded that they say more about meat than they do about soybeans. (The short of it is that it says an awful lot about cold cuts that you can mash a bunch of soy together and get something that is more-or-less as good.) But what of the things in themselves?

If we consider the most basic question, I should say that the sandwiches are a success. They taste good. The pepper steak was tasty, and the duck was particularly choice. It had a deep, smoky flavor, and the success of the sandwiches definitively credited to how good these flavors were. The accompanying ingredients were lettuce, tomato, pickles, red onions, mayo, mustard and, in owing to the location and the style of the place, sprouts. That’s a classic deli sandwich, but if the main ingredient fails there isn’t much there for backup. In further evidence of the reliance on the fake meat, if one is going to attempt to pass off a facsimile as hey-I-guess-it’s-good-enough, one does not attempt duck. It’s not a fake-it-and-hope-nobody-notices move. That’s important to note, because it points at the whole problem with the sandwich.

I think there’s a framing issue at work here, and while both sandwiches were quite good I’m far from convinced they were everything they could be. Food isn’t just a question of taste and smell. We eat with our eyes, the atmosphere matters, the context has an impact. There’s a lot going into each meal, even if we’re hardly conscious of most of it. What I found myself wondering at Love and Haight was whether I would have enjoyed these sandwiches more had they not been pitched as fake meat. The fake duck was good enough that I was happy to be eating it, but it was a far cry from real duck. Smoked duck is juicy and tender, a product of abundantly fatty tissue. There are a lot of ways to make soybeans delicious, there are very few that will turn them into duck.

Above I asked what was the value of the things in themselves, and I’m not sure I have an answer to that question. I cannot consider them in a context apart from fake meat, they don’t exist in any other context. I don’t know what you would call it, and I don’t know whether I would have ended up there eating it if it wasn’t trying to emulate meat. Those are difficult questions, and I don’t have answers for them. It light of that, I cannot help but think I haven’t given these sandwiches the full consideration they deserve.

The Kaiser – Coach House Liquors and Deli, S De Anaza Blvd, Cupertino, CA

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I recently read Tyler Cowen’s An Economist Eats Lunch, and I found it to be an interesting book. It presents a certain way of thinking about food with a heavy focus on thinking about inputs, demand, and how other such market forces might influence things. One of the suggestions is to seek out restaurants where the cost of operation is subsidized by a related enterprise. A family run restaurant attached to a motel owned by the same family is one example, restaurants at the back of a casino another.  Upon realized that Coach House had a well stocked deli counter stuck in the middle of a moderately upscale liquor store, I thought back to Cowen’s advice. The reasoning here is that liquor stores tend to do good business, and therefore there would be less pressure on the restaurant to squeeze the maximum profits out of everything. That’s where you run into pre-packaged avocado spreads, tired and wilted veggies, that sort of horror. And indeed, that’s what I found: the gentlemen manning the sandwich counter told me everything was cut fresh for the day, nothing was packaged. Subsidized by the surrounding liquor, the risk of wasting some food isn’t such a dire threat to the owner’s margins, and a better sandwich than might otherwise be had is the result.

The Kaiser is corned beef and pastrami, swiss cheese, lettuce, tomato and pickled jalapeños, and it was a fine sandwich. What seems logically reasonable holds true in practice. The ingredients were fresh, the price fair, everything you might expect from an establishment with some relief from the pressure faced by most. Thinking about it, this isn’t the first time this thinking has yielded me a fine meal. Bibo’s NY Pizza, one of the better places to get a slice in San Jose, was formerly located off the back of a liquor store. My own beloved Bánh Mì Saigon is in the back half of a jewelry store. This isn’t your average way to find a fine sandwich, looking around for something that might be riding some other business’ coat tails, but I suggest to you that if it results in a sandwich as tasty as the above it’s as fine a way to search as any.

Grilled Chicken Sandwich — La Brea Bakery, Downtown Disney, Anaheim, CA

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There are times when the sandwich you eat is the perfect sandwich. There are also times when the sandwich you eat is the perfect sandwich for that particular time or occasion. This offering from the La Brea Bakery was possibly both. Recently re-opened just outside of the gates of Disney’s California Adventure, the La Brea Bakery is, naturally, known for its fresh-baked bread. When I saw that one of its items was served on a pretzel roll, I did not hesitate. My adoration for the pretzel roll is, I believe, well-documented on this site.

The sandwich — grilled chicken, butter leaf lettuce, avocado, tomato, and aioli — was fantastic. It was far better than the sum of its parts and its crowing achievement was the pretzel roll, enhancing everything contained therein. Even the inclusion of butter leaf over some of the more preeminent staples of sandwich lettuce was an inspired choice. As I had recently experienced at the Village Bakery and Cafe, the decision to slice the grilled chicken rather than present a complete, boring grilled chicken breast was once again the most correct decision that could have been made.

If there was one problem with this sandwich, it was that there was an unusually high amount of filling creep. But even as by sandwich became messier with each bite, I still marveled at the pleasure derived from eating it. The La Brea Bakery provided me with an unexpected treat on day I sorely needed one.

Grégoire’s Restaurant, Piedmont Ave, Oakland, CA

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What a pleasure it is, to find an establishment willing to put some effort into the humble sandwich. Part of the joy of sandwiches is how simple they can be; one often needs nothing more than two pieces of bread and a bit of something else to have a fine bite to eat. But another part of the joy of sandwiches is that they really can be taken to some wonderful heights. Such is the case with Grégoire Restaurant, a tiny establishment in Oakland that does brisk takeout business providing “gourmet food made affordable.” Above is the pulled lamb shoulder sandwich: lamb, with espellette pepper, sour onions and artichoke chips on ciabatta. This was an exquisite sandwich, a layering of subtle flavors all built around rich, savory lamb. The artichoke chips were bits of fried artichoke, which brought a bit of crunchy texture to the sandwich with a flavor not typically seen. The onions were not particularly sour and the espellette is a rather mild pepper, leaving the sandwich well balanced and altogether delightful.

Unfortunately, I did not quite care for the fried chicken sandwich, but I want to make no mark against it. Here we had fried buttermilk chicken with spicy cole slaw on french roll. A simple, honest sandwich. The spice was in the manner of wing sauce, which is far from my favorite heat profile and a big part of what I didn’t enjoy about the sandwich. The chicken was fresh fried, though, the slaw crispy and well paired. The execution was there, and in light of the first sandwich it was clear there was no real failing here, it just wasn’t my style of sandwich. This isn’t a two-ingredient sandwich because someone was lazy or anything of the sort. It’s was that someone put these two things together, saw that it was enough, and was wise enough to stop there. The resulting sandwich wasn’t for me, but it’s easy to see someone else thinking it quite nice. That’s inevitably the result when someone cares, and it’s very clear that someone at Grégoire’s cares very much indeed.