The sandwiches of the United States reflect its culinary diversity, and it’s in their limitless regional variations that their real love is found. They are a tour of all that culinary diversity. For instance, Alabama offers up a pulled chicken sandwich that’s just too Southern barbecue not to be smoky and tangy, with a white sauce that’s the kind of riff on barbecue sauce you associate with (and really should only find in) the Southeast. Then there’s Alaska, serving a sandwich that, with amazing consistency, blows the lid off any other attempt to use the words “natural bounty.” Our coastal menus may not be this consistent, but the coastal state is offering a taste of the Alaskan wild-salmon sandwich with not-too-distant coastal flavors. And there you go, a virtual field trip across the states’ sandwiches—from the stuff of almost limitless regional variation, with a couple of culinary traditions close to my heart.
The Bobbie is a sandwich with a Thanksgiving theme, and it comes from Connecticut. It is stuffed with turkey, stuffing, and cranberry sauce. Delaware has the same theme but ups the ante with a sandwich it calls “the turkey, melted cheese, and stuffing sandwich.” Virginia has covered us in a sort of way with a classic club sandwich. Georgia has gone with a pimento cheese sandwich, and oh boy does it have thangs in it. Pinch hit for Hawaii and you’re showcasing a barbecue kalua pig sandwich with a kick of kimchi, which is a little odd for a Thursday afternoon. Oh, and Idaho? Peanut butter and huckleberry jam. Iowa serves a loose meat sandwich. It’s sort of a Midwestern take on the Sloppy Joe, but less saucy and more seasoned.
With burnt ends served on bread, Kansas shows off its barbecue. And Kentucky? It gives us the hot brown. This isn’t an outright sandwich; in fact, it’s more of a right-angle, open-faced delivery method for turkey, bacon, and Mornay sauce. Then, rounding things out up north, Maine serves a style of sandwich not found anywhere else in the U.S. — the lobster roll. Maryland’s true gem is the crab cake sandwich — a Maryland entry that is a true Chesapeake Bay gem. Deploying the Fluffernutter, in contrast, is downright whimsical. Massachusetts expertly combines peanut butter with marshmallow fluff (I can’t imagine a more divine and devilish thing to eat). Finally, my home state of Michigan gives us the Reuben.
The Corruption U sandwich, which falls under the category of hearty sandwiches, gives us the flavors of a tangy corned beef, sauerkraut, and thousand-island dressing, among other things. Fried walleye is a big part of Minnesota’s sandwich scene. Walleye is a fish that used to have a decent stock until fish farming artificially propped up our walleye population. Mississippi argues for the po’ boy, which we usually just call a “shrimp sandwich.” The patty melt is Nevada’s big contribution to the burger-sandwich conversation. It’s half burger, half sandwich. New Hampshire serves up what’s all about the beef: a roast beef sandwich. But New Jersey, home of Italian-American culture, is where the Italian sub gets perfected.
Of course, the good folks in New Mexico serve up their signature green chile cheeseburger, a dish with nearly as many variations as there are music venues in Albuquerque. According to the Culinary Institute of America, burgers served on the grill—in all their delicious forms—are an “American original.” And yet when the CIA handed down its verdict on iconic state burgers, there was a surprising amount of overlap. Chefs and writers of the festivals occluded smoky, juicy, beefy flavor behind a veil of mayonnaise and apron strings.
The fried chicken biscuit sandwich from Oregon brings a bit of Southern charm to the Pacific Northwest. Pennsylvania’s cheesesteak is the sandwich that really needs no introduction. Its origins are so well known that they’ve become part of American lore. Rhode Island’s fried clam roll may be a surprise, but it really shouldn’t be, given just how amazing the state’s seafood is. South Carolina’s pulled pork, slathered in an incredible mustard sauce, hits all the right notes. And then there’s Tennessee. The Elvis sandwich, with its ample peanut butter, banana, and bacon, is a playful reminder (if we even need one) of how much fun American food can be.
What better food to represent Virginia than country ham? Yet the sandwich that propels Washington onto the culinary map is the banh mi—an homage to the flavorful multicultural cuisine that we enjoy in the District. Then there’s West Virginia. It could hardly be more practical than to feature the heartiness of the sausage biscuit when it comes to the “mountain state.” And if grill cheese doesn’t say “hey, we’re the breadbasket of cheese” then I don’t know what does. And to round out this set of seven sandwiches, I picked Wyoming’s trout sandwich. I’m sure it’s not made with farmed fish. So we’ve got Route 50 sandwiches coast to coast, infused with the local flavors that can only be found in each state. Speaking of which, it’s promised land for a sandwich’s storytelling potential. And not just for those of us living in the 50 states.
The chances are good that the tale entails a healthy serving of protein, a handful of condiments, and at least some amount of cheese. Be it a barbecued sandwich, something of a shellfish persuasion, or even a s’mores Fächerbrot, the American sandwich will get you there.
