Every sandwich has a story to tell. From Chicago’s Italian beefs to NYC bodegas’ chopped cheese sandwiches, what was once considered just a workin’ man’s meal has since become a calling card—an emblem of a region or city subculture. So we’re spotlighting a few of the more delicious and unique sandwiches that can be found in Kansas City.
Here are 11 sandwiches that take you around the country and the world.
BY: Devan Dignan, Rachel Layton, Ryan Reed, Tyler Shane, Hampton Stevens and Kyle Wisecarver. Photography by Pilsen Photo Coop. Food styling by Ellie Schmidly Jones.
The chopped cheese is the bodega sandwich of NYC. It isn’t complicated. Its main components consist of a toasted hoagie roll stuffed with ground beef, onions, melted cheese and some kind of sauce. But the new generation of bodega cooks, many of them immigrants who have taken over the family business, have started the trend of turning the menu staple on its head by adding some more… unusual ingredients. Luckily, you don’t need to go to NYC to experience this viral social media phenomenon. Cocky Ocky Grill off 39th Street and Cleveland Avenue is bringing bodega culture right here to KC.
For a convenience store with bars on the window, the grill’s scratch-made food is surprisingly good.
You can’t find a chopped cheese sandwich anywhere else in KC except at Cocky Ocky Grill, a convenience store with a 10-by-10-foot kitchen in the back. Owners Mazin Jabr and Nallely Méndez have taken the chopped cheese sandwich and made it their own. It’s stacked high with four slices of Texas toast and piled with turkey bacon, angus beef patties, sweet peppers, lettuce, tomato, two types of cheese and a healthy drizzle of homemade chipotle mayo and strawberry pepper jam.
What most customers don’t know is that Jabr and Méndez will add any number of the convenience store’s snacks to their chopped cheese, just like the famous bodegas in NYC will.
Red Hook Food Corp, run by Yemini American Rahim Mohamed, is the most well-known NYC bodega for the “have it your way” cooking style. Mohamed’s videos of cooking chopped cheese sandwiches with the customer’s chosen snacks—Funyuns, ice cream sandwiches, ramen noodles, you name it—have garnered millions of views. Some even feature celebrity appearances.
“You can add anything to this?” I ask Méndez, standing in her tight kitchen cooled by a massive floor fan as she crisps the ingredients of my chopped cheese on the flattop.
“Oh yeah,” she says. “Anything. Chips, Pop-Tarts. Someone asked me to sub the bagel in the breakfast sandwich with Honey Buns the other day.”
Some flavor combos customers ask for are pretty dang out there, says Méndez, but she doesn’t mind. At Cocky Ocky Grill, the world is your bodega. – Tyler Shane
The Gobbler is all about balance: sweet and spicy, soft and crunchy.
Julian Garcia knows. He’s the co-owner of Bay Boy Specialty Sandwiches in the West Plaza. He’s also known as the Bread-Meister—it says so on his business card—and his Dutch Crunch bread is unquestionably the star of the show.
“We bake it fresh in-house every day,” Garcia says. “It’s a white bread, but we top it with a rice flour batter. The rice flour doesn’t have any gluten in it, so it doesn’t expand when it bakes. It cracks, which creates that nice and crunchy texture on the outside and soft and chewy inside.”
It’s true. The golden-brown crinkled crust has a distinctive mouthfeel. It’s dense and stays firm, holding shape and ensuring the sandwich’s integrity to the last bite.
Garcia was born in San Francisco but grew up in KC. He discovered Dutch Crunch bread when he went back to the Bay Area, where the Dutch Crunch roll is a regional staple, to study film and video. Upon his return to KC, he likely would have worked in film and video production, but fate and hunger intervened.
While working at Johnny Jo’s Pizzeria and going to UMKC, Garcia started a pop-up with his then-roommate, now-business partner, Jake Wilson. They sold sandwiches out of the pizza shop one day a week. Then two days a week. Then three. The pair moved into the space on Holly Street thinking they’d use it as a commissary kitchen for a food truck.
“But the shop blew up,” Garcia says. “We never opened the food truck.”
The unique Dutch Crunch roll gained a cult following, and the aforementioned Gobbler became Bay Boy’s bestseller. The Gobbler is an exercise in balance and simplicity. It starts with a Dutch Crunch roll sliced in half with a light layer of house-made chipotle mayonnaise. It’s layered with green leaf lettuce, fire-roasted red peppers and a single slice of Boar’s Head Swiss cheese—two slices if you get the sandwich toasted. Finally, there’s three ounces of Mesquite wood-smoked roasted turkey breast.
“We used to use their honey-smoked, which I liked way better, but they discontinued that,” Garcia says. “So they sent us Mesquite, which I like fine. I may be reevaluating what kind of turkey we use from them.”
Of course. The quest for sandwich greatness never ends. – Hampton Stevens
The bánh mì’s story is one steeped in persistence and adaptation. In the 19th century, when the French occupied portions of Vietnam, they brought the baguette with them, something completely foreign to Vietnam’s rice- and fish-based cuisine. Most Vietnamese could not afford to buy baguettes, so they were considered a treat. However, the long crusty loaves were slowly incorporated into the Vietnamese diet, and the bánh mì sandwich as we know it today was born. Locals used ingredients they had on hand when creating the sandwich. Raw and pickled veggies topped the meats, and mayo replaced the French’s liberal use of butter. Eventually, the once-expensive treat became a sandwich of the people: cheap, convenient and delicious.
Not too long ago, if you wanted a bánh mì in KC, you had to search through the pho spots or Vietnamese markets. But since Paris Bánh Mì opened in Westport, the search has proven more fruitful. The chain Vietnamese restaurant is fully dedicated to the French Vietnamese fusion sandwich and offers multiple variations of it, from shredded chicken to roast pork, all topped with cilantro, mayo, pickled cucumbers, carrots and jalapenos.
The baguettes are surprisingly fresh for a chain because, along with making sandwiches, Paris Bánh Mì s a French-style bakery where baguettes and croissants are baked daily. The baguettes, an imperative element to the bánh mì, are soft and chewy enough to soak up the mayo’s tang and the raw jalapeno’s heat. We recommend getting yours stuffed with grilled pork. It’s savory, sweet and grilled almost to a crisp—a great pairing with the crunchy bread. – Ryan Reed
The chopped Italian sandwich became a social media sensation because of its novel approach to the beloved Italian sub. It has all the same ingredients, but instead of layering them on the bread whole, they’re chopped and mixed together on a cutting board, condiments and all. The benefit? No more cold cuts sliding out when you take a bite or an inconsistent layering of tomatoes and pepperoncini. Every single bite has the same ingredients and wonderful tangy flavor. Plus, it’s super easy. – Tyler Shane
Yields: 2 sandwiches
Ingredients
2 Italian hoagie rolls
½ red onion, sliced
1 small tomato, sliced
¼ cup pepperoncini or banana peppers
4 leaves of lettuce
4 slices of Provolone cheese
5 (or 7 slices) each of ham, capicola, salami and sopressata
½ cup mayonnaise
1 tbsp. extra virgin olive oil
1 tbsp. red wine vinegar
2 tsp. oregano or Italian seasoning
Salt and pepper, to taste
• Enjoy!
Weston-based Green Dirt Farm has been winning awards for its artisan sheep’s cheese since 2009. Fast forward to today and the dairy’s new restaurant, Green Dirt on Oak in the Crossroads, is beginning to gain attention as well—but not just for its cheeses. At Green Dirt on Oak, the farm’s lamb gets a spotlight, too. Chef Oskar Arévalo, who started out as Green Dirt’s cheesemaker, has managed to infuse the lamb into some unsuspecting dishes, like the classic Reuben sandwich.
Traditionally, a Reuben is made with two slices of rye bread, corned beef (the key ingredient), sauerkraut, Russian or Thousand Island dressing and Swiss cheese. There is some debate on where the sandwich originated, but a convincing story comes out of Omaha, Nebraska, at the Blackstone Hotel. A local poker player requested a corned beef sandwich and it quickly became a popular item on their menu. Eventually, it was named after the local who requested it. Others claim that the sandwich originated from a New York deli called Reuben’s Restaurant and Deli. May the debate live on as we enjoy one of the best sandwiches to ever be assembled.
It’s not hard to find a quality Rueben at bars and long-standing delis around town, but Green Dirt’s may be the most unique. After eating it (a little too fast, I must say), I don’t think I can go anywhere else now. They’ve ruined my taste buds forever.
Juicy corned lamb is topped with a velvety cheese blend (that they make in-house, of course) and house-brined pickles. Green Dirt makes their own version of a Thousand Island dressing, a mix of heirloom tomato ketchup and homemade mayo. The rye bread is also made from scratch in the restaurant’s kitchen. And you can’t forget the salty pickled sauerkraut. The beauty of this Reuben is that you can experience fat, salt, sweet and acidity all in one bite. It hits all the notes. –Kyle Wisecarver
The pork and broccoli rabe sandwich is the real unsung hero of Philly’s food scene. A toasted hoagie roll cushions slices of salty pork and melted cheese, but it’s the broccoli rabe that elevates this sandwich to heights of euphoria. Oddly enough, husband and wife team Joe and Michelle Brancato, owners of Gladstone sandwich shop The Italian Sausage Company, say the broccoli rabe, in all its bitter beauty, is the exact ingredient that makes customers hesitant to try it.
You can’t go wrong with any sandwich on Italian Sausage Co.’s menu. Their hefty subs with every combination of fixins’ you can imagine have long been my go-tos. At least, that was the case until the No. 29 came along. The East Coast sandwich with Italian-American roots was a staple at every New Jersey corner deli when Michelle lived there.
Broccoli rabe, commonly referred to as rapini and used in Italian dishes, has an underrated beauty to it. It has long stems that sprout broccoli-like buds, and it’s not commonly found in many grocery stores. At Italian Sausage Co., the Brancatos blanch then saute the rabe along with olive oil, garlic and a few other ingredients—nothing complicated. The rabe, stems and all, is then seared quickly on the grill alongside the previously slow roasted slices of porchetta. Both are piled on a quartered Roma Bakery loaf with sharp provolone and a schmear of house-made garlic aioli.
It’s all about the broccoli rabe’s almost tangy bitterness. It’s complex and full of texture, certainly more than your average Philly cheesesteak. With all the standard hot sandwich elements—toasted bread, melted cheese and meat—the broccoli rabe throws all these typical ingredients into a completely new song, still harmonizing but with more funk. –Tyler Shane
Condiments are the glue that brings a sandwich together, whether they add needed complexity or balance flavors. If you’re looking to up your sandwich game, try a few of these locally made—and slightly unusual—spreads. –Tyler Shane
James Chang’s Chili Oil
Chili oil is the new viral condiment, and while it’s great for dressing up any meal, a gentle drizzle on a cold meaty sub sandwich (like the No. 22 at Italian Sausage Co.) is how we recommend using it. Local chef James Chang’s oil has a cult following—but you never know when he’ll launch his next batch. Follow
@jchang.kitchen to snag yours.
On The Rocks Gourmet Jams
Sometimes a bright, fruity element is the missing ingredient to round out a hearty sandwich. For example, Bay Boy’s roast beef sandwich The Bandit is finished with a raspberry jam spread, and it’s oh-so-good. On The Rocks Gourmet Jams have a boozy twist to each flavor, like strawberry daiquiri, peach bellini and raspberry mimosa. The jams can be found in any Made in KC store. (ontherocksjams.com)
Velouté’s Country Pâté
Don’t knock it till you’ve tried it. This uber savory and rich spread is commonly found on the Vietnamese sandwich due to France’s occupation of Vietnam in the early 20th century (read more on pg. 51). If you snag a jar from Velouté at the Overland Park Famer’s Market, it comes with the most adorable petite baguette. (veloutekc.com)
The Taylor ham is uncomplicated. It’s composed of just four essential ingredients: a bread-based vessel, fried egg, melty American cheese and slices of fried pork roll. While New Jerseyans may clash on terminology—some just call it pork roll while traditionalists refer to it as Taylor ham—what most can agree on is that this meat is an integral part of Jersey history. Unsurprisingly, the sandwich was named the Garden State’s official sandwich in 2015.
True Northern Jersey residents will insist that pork roll is sourced from one of Jersey’s two pork staple companies: Taylor Provisions, which some credit Taylor ham’s origins to, or Case Pork Roll, established in 1870. The term “pork roll,” as opposed to “Taylor ham,” came about in 1906 when new FDA provisions disqualified the salt-cured pork from being officially classified as ham.
In the 168 years since Jersey first coined the pork roll, egg and cheese combo, its popularity has spread across the states. You can find it everywhere from Los Angeles’ New York Bagel & Deli to Dallas’s Shug’s Bagels. Thankfully, Kansas City is no exception. The Crossroad’s well-loved neighborhood bar and delicatessen King G recently announced the return of Taylor ham to their small but mighty sandwich menu.
King G’s Taylor Ham is unpretentious and holds close to tradition with a soft-yolk fried egg, briny pork roll and gooey American cheese served on a butter bun. The egg is peppered and salted to satisfy every palate. Although it’s a breakfast classic, the sandwich offers as equally satisfying a bite at 11 am as it does at 11 pm, when the deli closes. For a true northeastern experience, grab some ketchup to get it “SPK style”—that’s salt, pepper and ketchup. You might even go for a double egg or extra-crispy pork roll if you’re a real Jerseyan.
North Jersey locals often credit the origin of their state’s signature sandwich, the Taylor ham sandwich, to the Battle of Trenton during the Revolutionary War. Others credit the simple, salty sandwich specifically to inventor John Taylor, a New Jersey state senator and entrepreneur who formed Taylor Provisions Company in 1888, officially establishing “Taylor’s Prepared Ham.” Taylor Provisions has been making its prepared ham for more than 150 years and still operates today. – Rachel Layton
When it comes to Japanese food, images of brothy, crinkly ramen noodles or sleek pink bits of salmon nigiri come to mind first. But Japan’s convenience store culture offers up another coveted, albeit less glamorous, Japanese culinary staple: the egg salad sandwich. You can find local James Beard award-nominated chef Johnny Leach’s version of it at the West Side’s newest bar, XO. This moody bar is dedicated to hi-fi tunes and is inspired by the listening lounges of Japan.
Also known as the tamago sando, the egg salad sandwich has become an emblem of Japan’s convenience store food, especially in 7-Elevens. In Japan, no matter the time of day, a tamago sando is never too far away. It isn’t too unlike the American version, consisting of hard boiled eggs chopped and mixed with mayonnaise and mustard. However, it stands out with a couple key elements. The Japanese mayo, Kewpie, is renowned for being creamier and richer than our American store-bought brands. This, along with fluffy soft milk bread, or shokupan, has made the sandwich a standout with a cult following. Even Anthony Bourdain called it “insanely delicious and incongruously addictive” in an episode of Parts Unknown.
Chef Leach uses Kewpie mayo, along with an imported Japanese mustard, hot sauce, scallions and “perfectly cooked local eggs,” he says. But The Town Co. head chef couldn’t help but put his own twist on it: bits of nori, or seaweed.
“It’s from my love of the tamago nigiri,” Leach says. “[The tamago sando] is an homage to that flavor profile. We go heavy handed with the nori because it’s such a delicious product and adds a beautiful layer of umami.”
As for the bread, Leach is firm that it carries the sandwich literally and metaphorically, so he doesn’t cut corners. The sando’s soft shokupan is made by Will Berndt of Marion Milling, a local flour milling company based in the West Bottoms. Each slice is as thick as the sandwich’s egg filling.
XO’s tamago sando may not come wrapped in plastic like in Japan, but try not to let that deter you from enjoying this international beauty infused with plenty of local love. –Tyler Shane
by Devan Dignan
Every day, thousands across the metro enjoy a robust barbeque scene, celebrated for its smoked meats, homemade sides and house sauces. Nevertheless, most would be surprised to learn that the most consumed item on these menus is typically outsourced and rarely ordered by name.
“The bread is literally the only thing we don’t make,” says Harp Barbecue’s Tyler Harp, who, like most of the ’cue places around town, buys his bread from just one singular establishment: Roma Bakery. For Harp, who prides himself on his quality ingredients and homemade offerings, wholesaler Roma was the only bakery he considered.
“Honestly, there’s nothing about [Roma] that doesn’t work,” Harp says. “You need a sturdy bun to hold up to a pulled pork sandwich. They have so many forms of good, different barbeque buns.”
Harp’s choice of bread is hardly unique. Literally and figuratively, Roma Bakery’s bread is the common thread that unites much of the city’s barbeque. They are the BBQ Capital’s wallflower, the rarely acknowledged company making an essential cameo in nearly every meal.
Who uses Roma’s bread? “Gates, Jack Stack, Joe’s, Zarda, Slap’s, Hawg Jaw, Smokehouse, Brobeck’s, Q39, LC’s, Snead’s, Bates City, Johnny’s, Smoketown, Blind Box, Char Bar …” says Carl Quarrato, who runs Roma along with his cousins John and Carl Filardo. The list goes on and on, Quarrato says.
Quarrato and the Filardos operate their generational family business together. When the family bought the bakery in 1923, it was already well-established in Columbus Park. Their migrant forebears renamed it for their homeland’s capital city, and Roma Bakery was born. While the bakery grew up alongside the city’s barbeque scene, there was practically no relationship between the two.
“We’ve been around for 100 years,” Quarrato says. “But for two-thirds of that, we were focused on Italian restaurants.” This model worked well for several decades as Roma passed from one generation to the next.
When the original bakery burned down in 1992, Roma rebuilt a larger facility and established a relationship with Omaha’s Rotella’s Italian Bakery, who sought to expand distribution. The introduction of hamburger buns, split rolls and sliced breads to Roma’s catalog made collaborating with local barbeque joints an obvious next step. “It’s hard to know how it began, but it goes both ways,” John Filardo says. “We wanted to be a part of barbeque, but also, people here knew to call Roma.”
The Muffuletta may be the most American of sandwiches. Created by Italian immigrants in New Orleans at the turn of the 20th century, the novel sandwich combined traditional elements—cold cuts, olives and cheese—in a form that had no direct Old World cognate. Between 1880 and 1920, an estimated 300,000 Sicilians arrived in New Orleans from the Port of Palermo, and among them was muffuletta sandwich creator Salvatore Lupo.
Lupo set up his shop, Central Grocery, in 1906. As city legend has it, Lupo’s customers were buying the muffuletta ingredients individually and constructing the sandwich themselves on muffuletta bread. The bread, a flat, round, sesame roll, was traditionally made for religious holidays and allegedly named as a diminutive of the italian “muffe,” or “mold,” in reference to its mushroom-cap appearance. Eventually, Central Grocery took it upon itself to make the sandwiches for their customer—a craft they have perfected and still employ over a century later. But you can also grab one right here in KC.
Kansas City, also known for its Italian-American community, can claim some pretty good muffuletta sandwiches. Johnny C’s Deli & Pasta in Kansas City’s Northeast Industrial District is one of those spots.
Typically, the sandwich combines three meats—ham, mortadella and genoa salami—with provolone cheese. This, served on the muffuletta roll with a thick layer of oily olive salad, is the standard iteration. Opinions become contentious, however, when it comes to whether it should be served cold or hot. At Johnny C’s, the Big Easy sandwich is firmly toasted.
Although Johnny C’s muffuletta nixes the mortadella, it doesn’t taste like it’s missing anything. The remaining meats do a little dance—spicy and tangy, but not taking either too far in any one direction. It’s balanced on the provolone base. The bread roll just plain shines. It’s just about as big and airy as it can be but collapses into the layers of meat and cheese for a dense, jam-packed flavor. Johnny C’s isn’t too heavy-handed with their olive salad, or tapenade, so it adds the perfect amount of tangy punch to each bite.
The deli is quaint and cozy, tucked into an industrial district strip mall, but the folks there are friendly, and the lunchtime crowd knows they are devouring something special.
– Ryan Reed
I’ll be the first to say it: the Italian steak sandwich isn’t anything revolutionary. It’s a large breaded and fried cutlet, usually made of beef but sometimes pork, topped with cheese, a red sauce and served on a soft Italian hoagie roll. It doesn’t inspire much debate—certainly no heated online forums arguing over the city’s best. Still, it’s North KC born and bred, sort of a calling card for people from north of the river. If you know, you know.
There are plenty of spots up north that serve the sandwich, but it was a more prominent menu item in the latter half of the last century, when North KC’s Italian community, mostly of Sicilian descent, had little ma-and-pa shops all over. Unfortunately, only a few of those kinds of places remain, like Garozzo’s.
Michael Garozzo makes his Italian steak sandwich classic with beef and serves it with a side of penne noodles and red sauce. Originally from St. Louis, the chef says the version he grew up with was simply a pan-fried cut of beef served over buttered garlic bread. He was confused when he moved to KC, ordered an Italian steak sandwich and received a beef version of a veal Parmesan sandwich. But he became hip to it. He fondly remembers Wimpey’s, a burger joint on Troost that closed in the ’90s, as the place with the best Italian steak sandwich in KC. Apparently there have been many who have tried to replicate Wimpey’s recipe, but Garozzo says none compare.
Others say Stacks off Chouteau Trafficway, also long gone, had the best Italian steak sandwiches.
Humdinger’s, a family-owned greasy spoon joint that’s been in business since 1962, has served Italian steak sandwiches since its beginning. You may not expect much from the food shack sitting on Ninth Street and Prospect Avenue, but I was pleasantly surprised with their fried-to-order sandwich, even if it is served with pork.
Although this sandwich’s origins remain elusive, I know one thing: If I come across someone familiar with the Italian steak, I know what side of the river they’re from. They most likely refer to someone from the block they grew up on as “so-and-so, from the neighborhood.” They have an old-school charisma about them and remember a time when KC was run by prominent crime bosses.
The Italian steak may not be the most popular sandwich in KC, but for many of us, it’s nostalgia served between two slices of bread, a memory of KC’s past. If you have any opinions on the Italian steak sandwich, I’d love to hear them. Email me at tyler@kansascitymag.com.
– Tyler Shane
When Antakya, Turkey native Sami Jenedi began his pop-up KC Doner just several months ago, his intention was to not “Americanize” his menu. He wanted to stay true to the dishes of his home country and serve them totally traditional and totally Turkish, starting with one of Turkey’s most prominent dishes—the doner wrap.
If you’re at the Lenexa Public Market for one of KC Doner’s regular weekend pop-ups, you’ll see the massive vertical rotisserie cooker from where the wrap’s beef is thinly shaved. (“Doner” means “to turn” or “rotate” in Turkish, referring to the meat’s cooking method.) Jenedi compares doner wraps to the likes of a shawarma or gyro, and they do share some basic elements. Both have tender meat, sauces and vegetables all stuffed into bread. But the doner is distinctly different.
It’s savory, with the tender beef tossed in a light homemade tomato sauce and finished with a traditional red onion salad, which Jenedi prides himself in. It bursts of sumac, the gorgeous spice that tastes of earthy lemon. The meat, tomato sauce and onion salad are wrapped in a fresh, thin flour tortilla from KCK’s Carniceria y Tortilleria San Antonio, then seared on a cast iron skillet for a gentle char.
Jenedi says that while most newcomers expect tzatziki sauce with his food, it’s not part of Turkish cuisine. Instead you can find the doner plate, essentially a deconstructed wrap, served with yogurt on the side for a dipping sauce. When asked how Turkish cuisine differs from other Mediterranean and Middle Eastern foods, Jenedi says it’s slightly spicier. But don’t let that deter you from trying it. The doner wrap has a satisfying kick to it that comes across as a savory tang rather than spice.
Considering KC has no restaurants fully dedicated to serving Turkish cuisine, Jenedi knows that many of his customers are trying his home country’s food for the first time. There’s a few familiar menu items, like Turkish coffee and homemade baklava (Jenedi’s mom lent her recipes for KC Doner’s baked goods) but the Turkish flatbread, potato pies and red lentil vegan balls may require newcomers to step outside their comfort zone—and Jenedi commends them.
– Tyler Shane
I don’t tiptoe around when I interview Sauls Beef’s owners Mike Iamorino and Ethan Wheeler.
“What’s the secret to your Italian beef sandwich?” I ask upfront.
“Nunya damn business,” Wheeler jokes. Or half jokes, because ultimately he won’t tell me too many recipe details. He definitely won’t spill the secret to his jus, the make-or-break component to any Italian beef sandwich.
His secrecy is no surprise. People are opinionated about Italian beefs, and when I say people, I mean Chicagoans. Iamorino believes the best Italian beef is from Johnnie’s Beef (not to be confused with Johnny’s Beef) in his hometown of Arlington Heights, a northwest suburb of Chicago. As for Wheeler, he lived in Chicago for a spell and, upon returning to KC, started working on his own recipe for Italian beef sandwiches. He tested it while he and Iamorino were working as pasta makers (they still are) at Michael Smith’s Crossroads Italian restaurant Farina. Iamorino says the first time he tried Wheeler’s recipe, it tasted almost like home.
But it was missing something: a Turano Baking Co. roll, the bread that all the Chicago Italian beef sandwich shops use. Iamorino decided to have them shipped in, and there it was—the closest thing either of them had had to a true Chicago Italian beef sandwich in KC. The pair started their pop-up Sauls Beef last year and have been satiating Beef Heads, a term they coined for their loyal clientele, since.
At a pop-up at Cinder Block Brewery, I witnessed multiple Chicago natives talk the two chefs’ ears off about how they haven’t had a “real” Italian beef in KC until Sauls came along.
“It smells like home,” said one nostalgic customer as he approached the register.
For many, it’s the jus, the byproduct of slow cooking the Angus top round beef, that garners so much debate. Once Wheeler fills a Turano roll with the beef (Wheeler is usually the sandwich maker while Iamorino tends to customers), he uses his tongs to dip the entire sandwich in their top-secret jus for just half a second. It’s then topped with giardiniera (a house-made medley of pickled and marinated vegetables) or sweet peppers and wrapped twice with parchment. It’s sloppy and wet. You should feel like you need a shower after eating it.
While Wheeler won’t give me too many recipe details, he and Iamorino do talk about the process of creating the sandwich. Despite being food industry professionals, making Italian beefs has been a lesson in simplicity.
“Basically, the more chef-like you get with it, the more messed up the sandwich gets,” Iamorino says.
“I take what a chef would typically do and dumb that down to its barest bones,” Wheeler says. Then he drops the most intel I receive the entire interview: “We’re focused on making the jus, not the beef.”
Iamorino has heard from family back in Chicago that some beef spots are getting lazy with their jus, taking a shortcut by using beef bouillon and Italian seasoning. But Sauls makes it their priority, and it’s a matter of getting it right from the start.
“We don’t doctor our jus,” Iamorino says. “We cook the beef in the jus, we strain it, that’s what we use.”
Simple enough. Sauls’ jus is powerful, salty, spicy, a little tangy. It packs a punch, so there’s certainly more they’re not divulging.
When I devoured one of their Italian beefs, I couldn’t stop eating it, despite being plenty full. The beef was good, but it was the brothy, zesty jus, which the entire sandwich was soaked in, that kept me coming back for more. I suppose I’ll let Sauls keep their secrets. – Tyler Shane
