If you were a sandwich, what would you be?
It’s a question I keep in my back pocket. It’s one I’ve lobbed at chefs mid-interview, friends at dinner parties, even reticent colleagues at conferences. The question cuts through the small talk, any noise of ego, and acts as a mirror: what resonates with people, what moves them, and really, where do they stand on the spectrum of loyal rule-following and radical risk-taking? Because in the world of sandwiches, there’s a spectrum.
This question works so well because it’s not just an inquiry of taste but of identity. Is the shy coworker more like a freaky, spicy, seven-layer sandwich? Is the life-of-the-party more of a predictable, semi-sweet, classic Croque Madame?
It’s a revelatory question because eating a sandwich is personal. These packable, unwrappable treasures have been part of eaters’ lives for a long time, accompanying them since childhood, giving elementary students their first exercise in autonomy. Ham or turkey? Whole wheat or rye? Liberated from the confines of cutlery, sandwiches give us permission to make a mess.
And as an adult, all of that still applies while the choices get more vast and inviting. So whether you’re finding yourself by way of sandwiches or searching for a taste of place from regional sandwich specialties – a New Orleans Muffuletta, a South Jersey Pork Roll, or an Upstate New York Beef on Weck – these are the best sandwich shops in America to get you started.
In doing this research, it became clear that some of the best sandwiches in America are found beyond a sandwich shop. At times, the best stacked-high subs come from sceney pop ups, mom-and-pop restaurants, or contemporary american spots turning a hot dog into a delicacy (is a hot dog a sandwich, though?). Sandwiches like Win Son’s bacon egg and cheese on a scallion pancake or Sam Jones BBQ Restaurant’s chopped pork sandwich are prime examples. Or the seafood restaurant in New York, Penny, that makes an ice cream sandwich the talk of the town – a creamy sphere of vanilla tucked between two slices of brioche bread.
But there’s something timeless about a sandwich shop, with its long lines, bread wafting, the clatter and clutter of it all. To answer the question: If you were a sandwich, what would you be? Begin your journey here.
Ideal’s (Durham, North Carolina)
Courtesy of Jordan Abdur-Ra’oof
Down-to-earth Durham, chock full of independent eateries, artists, and activists, is also home to one of the South’s greatest sandwich spots: Ideal’s, where loyalists (there’s a lot of them) line up along the shop’s brick exterior religiously before noon. Owners Ian Bracken and Paul Chirico fully embrace the sub-infatuation of the Northeast, with scattered quintessential Carolina touches, from Duke’s Mayo to summer’s ruby-red tomatoes throughout the shop. The bread is ritually housemade, limited, and a pride-and-joy – either the sesame hoagie or rosemary focaccia. Ideal’s has a steadfast lineup of hot and cold sandwiches, but just go and trust whatever special is live that week, like a saucy sandwich version of chicken cacciatore or the Turducken, a cured then confited, then breaded, then fried duck sandwich.
Bodega Park (Los Angeles)
Courtesy of Ja Tecson
Bodega Park on Silverlake Boulevard is an Eastside LA-ified New York bodega-style deli. South Korean culinary influence brings the pork bulgogi sandwich to life, kicking with a spicy kurobuta collar and razor-thin raw onion. Park’s simple ode to the bacon-egg-and-cheese comes melty on a roll toasted to a crisp exterior and springy, warm interior. But it’s not just Park’s more chef-y creations that shine; it’s the classics, like the Italian-style sub with capicola, mortadella, and soppressata on a chewy sub – one bite of which is sure to induce nostalgia for the East Coast. Also, the chopped cheese sandwich – yes, a chopped cheese in LA – is Bodega Park’s cult classic. Finish with a signature Misugaru Black Sesame latte.
J.P. Graziano’s (Chicago)
Courtesy of J.P. Graziano Grocery Co.
The Mr. G sandwich is J.P. Graziano’s calling card. Maybe it’s the housemade truffle mustard vinaigrette or the draped layers of prosciutto di Parma or the heavy-handed blanket of Roman artichokes. Whatever the reason, Chicagoans stand by it, longingly watching the assembly line at J.P Graziono’s layer, douse, and fold the sub with precision. On a corner brick building in the West Loop, this longstanding shop has been around since 1937. As of late, the iconic, old-school spot became a Lollapalooza after party venue and a favorite for midnight fashion pop-ups, thanks to fourth-generation owner Jim Graziano sprucing up the decades-old classic.
Paesano’s (Philadelphia)
Courtesy of Aidan McAndrews
Tucked into the historic Italian Market on 9th street is an Anthony Bourdain favorite: Paesano’s. The sandwiches here are not for the faint of heart; they’re big and bold and packed with flavors that actually come at you from all angles. Take the crispy fried chicken liver sandwich – the Liveracce – for example. In one jaw-stretching bite, the balanced bitterness of arugula melds with the saucy roasted tomatoes. The zing of sweet orange marmalade cools with a creamy gorgonzola. Don’t miss the classic Philly cheesesteak; doing so would be local sacrilege.
Mean Sandwich (Seattle)
Courtesy of Renee Erickson
At Mean Sandwich in Seattle’s Ballard neighborhood, sandwich making is theater. The bigger, the better. Take the $21 fish sandwich for example, where sardines float atop layers of lettuce, fried lemons, cilantro, and a pickled celery root and jalapeño slaw – all in between fluffy, pull-apart challah bread. The signature sandwich – The Mean – supercharges a classic corned beef sandwich with mustard, pickled cabbage, and mint. The team doesn’t limit themselves to a certain genre either. You get beef steaks on griddled Texas toast and a decked-out fried chicken po’boy with Calabrian chili relish. The dipping sauces are must-gets, from a house lemon pepper mayo to a cacio e pepe dressing.
Sunny & Annie’s (New York City)
Courtesy of Sunny and Annie’s
This 24/7 corner NYC bodega, circa 1997, can turn soup into sandwiches. Kind of. Its cherished pho-inspired sandwiches include hoisin, snappy bean sprouts, and kimchi. Beyond that, Sunny & Annie’s stands out for its contrarian, mismatched, go-big-or-go-home nature, in a world full of fanciful, dainty sandwiches over $20. S&A’s is unpretentious, unchanging in many ways, and still has sandwiches under $15. The “physical menu” is just pieces of paper on the deli case, where each sandwich is named after a curious mix of icons like Barack Obama, Mona Lisa, and Jackie Chan. While there are no tables (it is a New York bodega), it’s a short jaunt to Tompkins Square Park. There, unwrap the sandwich – all snug in butcher paper and foil – and let it all spill out, because inevitably, it will. Then, let the dopamine hit.
Middle Child (Philadelphia)
Courtesy of M. Cahn
Raunchy, saucy, and irreverent is the unpredictable Middle Child, of course. At this Philly sandwich counter – equal parts diner and deli aesthetic – visitors get full and have fun. The sandwiches are classics with a little middle child flair: the swiss and turkey ciabatta sandwich gets a blueberry chutney, a classic Italian gets artichoke relish, the fluffy egg and cheese gets corned beef. Also, the burrata BLT is so big, it’s called a BBLT, with tomato jam.
Sanguich (Miami)
Courtesy of Sanguich de Miami
Sanguich, serving up Cuba-meets-Miami sandwiches, is no stranger to the spotlight. People have swooned over the toast level of the Cuban bread since the shop opened in 2017. The bread glistens with a gilded sheen, thanks to the pork fat that’s brushed on pre-toasting. It gives an extra unctuous bite to the Cubano and Pan con Lechon. Like a proper Cubano, the tightly pressed sandwich has minimal space between its components. It’s body-to-body in there (and also body-to-body in the tight, sought-after outpost in Little Havana). The husband-and-wife owners aren’t reinventing the wheel here; they’re just creating six craveable sandwiches really, really well.
Bill’s Sandwich Palace (Nashville)
Christen Clemins Photography for Bill’s Sandwich Place
In the land of honky tonks, hot chicken, and bachelorette parties is a shop – better yet, a palace – of inventive, over-the-top sandwiches. Once a sought-after pop up, Bill’s Sandwich Palace now has a permanent home in East Nashville to dole out sloppy tuna melts and fried chicken sandwiches on housemade focaccia and local Charpier’s Bakery buns. A signature Bill move is incorporating chips for texture, like Sour Cream & Cheddar Ruffles, Cool Ranch Doritos, sea salt potato chips, and even full-on french fries. The team also calls everyone who is a part of their sandwich tribe, Bill. So, it’s just a bunch of Bills at Bill’s.
The Boys’ Deli (San Francisco)
Courtesy of The Boys’ Deli
The unadorned but deeply adored The Boys’ Deli in San Francisco’s Russian Hill is a lunchtime staple. For one, it’s family owned with longtime, seasoned, stone-cold sandwich assemblers. Most importantly, it uses locals’ favorite Dutch Crunch bread, a soft white sandwich roll with a distinct crackly texture thanks to rice flour paste. It’s very Bay Area-coded. Take note of the sandwich names. They’re just plain fun to rattle off, like the Lightweight Tipsy, The Freak, Double Trouble, and The Gobbler.
The Modern Butcher (Danvers, Massachusetts)
Courtesy of The Modern Butcher
Okay, this is a butcher shop first, but insiders know it’s a sandwich shop, too. It’s only right that the sustainable, pasture-raised meats from local New England farms are front and center, packed high. Most notably, people flock to The Modern Butcher for the traditional North Shore roast beef sandwich, the three-way “NSB” with white American cheese, James River barbecue sauce, and slices of pink beef. The sandwich is extraordinarily large, messy, and only available on Saturdays. If you don’t make the cutthroat, early-risers line on Saturday, go on a weekday and get the Sandwich of the Day. It might be a buffalo chipotle chicken doused in scallions and bacon or a mile-high turkey and pepperjack sandwich with street corn slaw.
Turkey and the Wolf (New Orleans)
Courtesy of William Hereford
Turkey and the Wolf didn’t just create playful, semi-unorthodox sandwiches when it opened in 2016; it created a whole new culture around – and respect for – artisanal sandwiches. This kitschy, scrappy, red brick spot, now a national hot spot, serves up dilly heirloom tomato sandwiches and fried bologna sandwiches stuffed with thin potato crisps on decorative plates. Owner Mason Hereford paved the way for chefs transitioning out of buttoned-up fine dining into the world of buttoned-down chicken-fried steak sandwiches and thrifted knick-knacks décor. In a city of decades-honed po’boys and muffulettas, it takes something radical to shift culture. Turns out, whimsical and weird sandwiches that refuse to be put in a box were the ticket.
An Xuyên Bakery (Portland, Oregon)
In the buzz of very hip, very cool cafes busy redefining all that a sandwich can be, there is a quaint spot that doesn’t need to challenge the norm. Outside An Xuyên Bakery, an overhang is printed with “Banh mi. Sandwiches. Bakery.” No bells or whistles. This deli embraces timeless simplicity and its two-decades-old ritual of baking French baguettes every morning for a range of banh mis. There’s pate, Vietnamese meatball, and the fan-favorite barbecue pork. In between the glossy baguette, there’s an assorted mix of pickled veg that adds crunch, lacey cilantro that brings some brightness, and the housemade mayo that we all wish we could bottle up and take home.
Dining and Cooking