Simple sandwiches with wonderful ingredients:

Outside the beef:

Inside the beef:

I have no idea what the name means. Maybe you’re supposed to stand up when you eat? Why bother with the seats then? Was “Sit” taken? Maybe it’s their screenname and Stand1 through Stand3 were already taken? It feels like they knew they were opening a boring burger joint and tried to spruce it up with a super-modern name.

Cynicism aside their menu is obviously loaded with protein: lots of beef patties, cheese, bacon and eggs piled onto buns ranging from $5 to $15. I was starving (hungover) and went all the way by ordering the big kahuna: “Bold Burger”: Brioche, two 7 oz. beef patties, applewood smoked bacon, sauteed onions, American and cheddar cheese, pickle, tomato, chipotle sauce, fried egg for $15.

The server said they only serve it well-done because otherwise it falls apart, gross. It’s so big you can’t get your mouth around it and, come on, you can’t eat a big ass burger like that by taking little pansy bites off the bottom! Regretfully, I put it down and used a knife and fork, truly a sad fate for a hamburger. The bun was pleasantly soft but the beef was grossly over-cooked. The cheese and bacon were tasteless and added a little texture to mix up the chewy ground beef. I realized as I was stuffing bite after bite of over-cooked beef patty and cheese into my face that it’s never a good idea to see ground meat. Sausages and hamburgers should always be shrouded in bun, without it they just look gross all mealy and grey! Aside from the obvious food-coma, the burger was pretty bland.

My friend got the more traditional “Bacon & Egg Cheeseburger”: Beef, crispy applewood smoked bacon, cheddar, hard-boiled egg mayo for $12. He says that the best part about it was that the fillings didn’t fall off the bun. It doesn’t get much more boring than that, not even a word about the taste. Not good Stand4, not good.

I wouldn’t go back except maybe to actually stand up and have a beer.

Poor execution really kills them here:

I know I asked for it, but look at that:

It’s absurd:

How petite by comparison:

Let’s savor the irony for a moment: a Korean hot dog chain named “New York Hot Dogs” opens in Korea offering New York-style dogs, does well, and finally opens a branch in New York and serves Korean-style hamburgers. Is it opposite day?! Do people always want what they don’t know? I’m lost. Enough cultural confusion, back to the sandwiches; I tried both the kimchi-bulgogi hamburger (free, usually $5) and the bulgogi hot dog ($6). Both were good, but the hamburger was fantastically spicy thanks to the kimchi. I love bulgogi as much as the next, but on top of a hot dog it was just savory meat overload. It was so heavy and meaty I could barely finish it (also I had just eaten the hamburger). The hamburger, by contrast, was fantastically cooked to medium-rare, topped with all kinds of delicious sauces and had an intriguing spicy, meaty, cabbage taste. It was wonderful and is quite a bargain for $5.

Go forth and savor the kimchi-burger!

Decently prepared ingredients and a slightly complex than usual:

Fresh Burger. I have no idea why they mix in regular lettuce or cabbage with the kimchi:

Bitten Burger:

Hotdog, boxed:

Meat overload:

It sounds incredibly boring on the menu, “Cold Turkey Sandwich: everything kaiser roll, fresh mozzarella, grilled eggplant” ($12). I was expecting drippy, dry mozzarella; ice cold, dry turkey and some sweet, grilled eggplant slices. What I got instead took me all night to unravel. The turkey tasted like the day after thanksgiving, the mozzarella was subtle and salty and the eggplant, oh the eggplant. What they left off the menu might as well be summarized with one word: “magic”. I have no idea how they did it, but they added these magic sauces to both sides of the kaiser that just makes the sandwich come alive. I think it was some kind of red-onion, mayonnaise and dill. This sandwich is incredibly complicated, though you’d never know by the lame billing. Go eat it and be amazed!

The fried cod wasn’t as exciting. The menu bills it as a textbook fried cod sandwich: “Fried Fish Sandwich: tartar sauce, shredded cabbage, potato roll. ($10)” Yawn. The sandwich was decent, but as you can see below, the fish was HUGE and the little roll seemed like a joke. Are they telling us to use a knife and fork? Why not give another roll? Or, gosh, find a roll that fits? Just like they left the “magic” off the menu, for the fish sandwich they left off one ingredient: sprouts. Yes, sprouts. After a few bites I realized it’s because they really don’t belong in the sandwich. The perfectly cooked fish would crumble and give beautifully, but those damn sprouts just wouldn’t let go. I had to pull on them with my hands, with all the grace I could muster — it was kinda gross. Much too gross for the classy digs. I guess they wanted to give it a ’spin’ and it spun wrong.

I’d head back for that magic turkey and a nice glass of wine.

All the food was well prepared, but the cold turkey was a bit more complicated:

You can’t see the magic from here:

There it is, at the top and the bottom!

Gigantor-fish:

Delicious fish, evil sprouts:

marinated white anchovies, with soft-cooked egg, roasted onions, salsa verde and frisee
The recipe is straightforward: soft-cook an egg, toss lettuce with oil and vinegar, toast bread, roast onions and make some salsa verde. Assemble and eat! This ‘wich was easy took cook, easy to eat and if you like salty anchovies, delicious to eat (of course if you don’t like salty anchovies, what in the world are you doing making this sandwich?). This is the kind of sandwich I’d never order out but is perfect for a lazy Sunday or if you want to impress a date on a weekday. The egg gives it nice richness, while the frisee and (of course) anchovies give it salt and vinegar. Yum.

We quickly realized that we cut our bread way too thick and after toasting it became a bit challenging to eat without shredding the insides of our mouths (a la captain crunch). The bread should be about a quarter to half an inch thick. The picture quality on these isn’t very good, but don’t let that keep you from closing your eyes, visualizing the sandwich sitting there on the plate, no one’s around, go right ahead, take a little bite, one little bite won’t be noticed, you walk up and can already smell the vinegar and oil, a look over your shoulder, no one’s around, you raise it to your mouth and …

Open:

Constructed:

Constructed, again:

Short of baking the bread and smoking the ham, we cooked everything from scratch. Sure it took a while, but anything else might taint the beautiful potential of the axis of pork. We grabbed: challah rolls, fresh pork cutlets, black forest smoked ham, potatoes, gruyere and some eggs. In short: warm the oil, fry the potatos, pound and bread the pork, fry the pork, fry the french fries, melt the cheese, construct the sandwich and worship the swine. [Update, 8/2/09: Somehow in my porky-delusion I forgot to mention that we fried everything in a mixture of duck-fat and oil! Why not, right?]

Mr Bourdain wasn’t kidding. This sandwich is mind-blowing! The roll starts the taste off soft and slightly eggy, the smoked ham gives a nice cool texture and then the cutlet provides crunch and heft, the bacon more crunch and butter and the egg and gruyere give it a wonderful finish. I couldn’t talk much during the sandwich other than to mumble incoherently while my brain tried to unravel the explosion of flavors and the synapses untangled. Yes, it’s that good.

On the show, the chef said a bartender made it one night to sober a few people up. I had an extra sandwich from the night before and set out to see how well it works. After a few vodka tonics, I can report that there is no finer sobering-food than the three little pigs. Everything about this sandwich just soaks up the booze and leaves you ready to rub your eyes, scrub up and walk into the operating room with a clear head and a steady hand. Okay, maybe not THAT good, but it’s pretty incredible. (Plus it tastes like magic.)

I can’t (and won’t) say that it’s the best sandwich in America, but it’s definitly on the short-list! Go forth and celebrate the 3 little pigs!

Nearly Finished:

Awaiting an Egg:

In Process

Plated:

What was he eating? It was the ‘Three Little Pigs’ from the Silver Palm (no website, yelp) restaurant in Chicago (768 N Milwaukee Ave). This rediculous sandwich can only be the product of a hangover and/or a very drunken what-if escalation: smoked ham, breaded fried pork cutlet, two strips of bacon, two fried eggs doused in gruyere and served on a brioche bun. It’s like a croque-madame that’s been Americanized by adding fried pork and bacon. It feels good to finally best the French, join me for a quick round: ohhh sayy cann you seee, by the dawwnnss earlyy lightt…

Here’s the clip:

Anyone in Chicago and want to confirm Bourdains truthiness?

After a little youtube-googling, he said the exact same thing(“apex of sandwich making art”) about the Uruguayan “Chivito”. Man I hate it when my idols make mistakes. Here it is:

The Chivito:

Has anyone had both?

Thanks to Stephanie for sending it in and eat me daily for covering it.

The torta has a cousin, the cemita, who I’m just getting familiar with. The main difference is the bread – cemitas are made on a sturdier, darker roll that’s usually covered in sesame seeds. I believe they are also made with fewer toppings than tortas, though this hypothesis needs more research.

To illustrate the differences between these two tasty sandwich varieties, I went to a local favorite, Flor de Piaxtla (4202 5th Ave, Brooklyn, NY) and ordered a torta rusa (breaded beef, ham and cheese) and a chorizo and egg cemita (both $5). The torta rusa is a favorite of my dining companion, and it’s easy to see why. The beef and ham, while perfectly decent, aren’t the star of this sandwich – it’s the big juicy jalapenos, the creamy avocado chunks, the unexpected layer of beans, and the chewy melted cheese that make it unique.

The cemita, in this case, was much simpler – yet it was my favorite of the two. The sesame seed-studded bread is much chewier, holding in all the fillings admirably. The chipotle sauce covering the chorizo chunks is addictively spicy and smoky. It was, possibly, just the sauce from a can of chipotle peppers, but I don’t care. It soaks into the sturdy roll without creating too much mess – this sandwich is much easier to eat than the torta rusa. The chorizo, scrambled eggs, and gooey white cheese meld into a beautiful mass of fillings – in some sandwiches that’s an undesirable effect, but in this case it’s delicious.

The result of my research so far? Some Mexican sandwiches are complex, some are simple – but I haven’t found a bad one yet, and they’re cheap enough to continue sampling for a long time to come.

Both sandwiches have decent, but not outstanding quality:

Check out the layers on the torta rusa:

Another torta rusa view:

Chorizo and eggs – breakfast anytime:

Show up before or after the lunch crush or you’ll have to wait in line. Not that it’s always a bad thing, since you’ll need a minute to read their menu, oggle the array of italian food in the glass cases and watch the break being made in the bakery to the left. After you notice the bakery, you’ll see the text “Your choice of soft or crusty bread” and you know you’re about to get something special. These guys know sandwiches.

We tried three sandwiches, all with the crusty bread:

• Dom’s Special: Classic Italian (pistachio mortadella, provolone, natural casing genoa salami) with the addition of sweet capicola and prosciutto. Served with chopped lettuce, tomato and balsamic vinegar. ($7.99)
• Manzo: house-made garlic roast beef, caramelized onion, Gorgonzola and arugula. ($8.99)
• Lamb Panini: feta, lamb, oregano, lite mayo, diced tomato. ($8.50)

The lamb panini was a daily special and may not be available all the time, it’s okay though, the other two blew it out of the water. The trend for delis serving Italian sandwiches is to stuff them so full of mediocre meats, pre-cut tasteless cheeses and so much chopped lettuce you think you’re eating a salad. Thankfully Domenic knows better. this Italian is pared down to just the right serving size of high-quality essentials cased in soft-and-crusty Italian bread. That means there’s just enough chopped lettuce and tomato to add texture, it never becomes the only texture. This sandwich is a work of art and puts all other Italian sandwiches (and breads) to shame. Compare the photo’s below with your last Italian sandwich. It looks smaller doesn’t it? It looks simpler, more refined, more focused, more delicious!

The Manzo was equally impressive: the roast beef was tender, delicious and perfectly complimented by the onions, cheese and arugula. Like the roast beef from Defonte’s, it was a perfectly-done shade of light pink, not grey, and still incredibly moist! Take a look at the pictures below, you can see it shine and glimmer with tasty morsels in the sunshine. Yum. Just like the Dom’s special, there was just enough arugula to provide texture and not to overwhelm the other flavors. And again, that bread is to die for!

The lamb panini was less spectacular. The lamb was a bit too dry and the feta’s texture made it hard to take a few bites without a beverage nearby. It left us wondering “Maybe the lamb was leftover from the day before?” Unless the specials are really fresh, I’d skip them and stick to the proven sandwich menu.

Domenics is one of the few places to be solidly placed in high-strategy and high-execution sandwiches. For under $10 you can taste the food of the gods:

The anticipation is killing me:

Ahh, there it is:

Can you taste it?

Mmmmmmanzo!

Mmmmmm

Lamb Panini:

Pass the aranciata:

They set up shop on 3rd Avenue at 21st Street in a little place with a long counter and practically no room for the tables and chairs they keep by the windows. Hours are 9:30-8pm and it’s usually crowded. I tried their two signature sandwiches: the Roast Beef and the Nicky Special [sic]. Both were incredibly large, delicious and a little quirky.

First, look at the Roast Beef ($9.75). Yeah, take a look at it. If “Wow, look at all that roast beef” isn’t your first reaction, I’d like to know where you eat. That’s a veritable surplus of roast beef. If Mr. Defonte could run our city the way he packs these sandwiches, we’d be set. Hell, if he could run the country this way, there would be five chickens in every pot and a car made out of roast beef in every garage! (Take that Herbert Hoover!) I was full after just half the sandwich. And I was a little sad, because the roast beef was delicious. Sure, it was a little cold after a short walk outside, and sure, the inclusion of a slice of fried eggplant made it taste a little sweet but damn, that roast beef is delicious. I’ve come to accept that even tasty delis obliterate their roast beef until it’s grey (e.g. Champs), but this roast beef is a perfect medium-rare! Finally! The mozzarella was good too, but who really cares? I had some troubles keeping the fillings in place and not even the counterforce could stop the slow slide to the plate. I resorted to “patrolling the border”, an advanced technique I’ll illustrate shortly wherein the eater issues a preemptive strike on unlawful fillings by eating them as they are exposed from the bread, around the edge of the sandwich, reversing the direction of filling creep.

Now look at the Nicky Special ($9.95). Nicky must be huge. I mean really HUGE. Who else would resemble that sandwich? Now, I thought the Roast Beef was big, but this one is colossal. Is this the biggest sandwich in the store? Is this the biggest sandwich in Manhattan!? Is this the biggest sandwich ever served?!? I don’t know but it’s certainly the biggest I’ve ever seen. Take a look. Yeah, that’s right, it has layers like the grand canyon. If the Governor Arnold is a regular Italian hero then the Nicky Special is Arnold from Conan. See the difference. Nicky Special’s got: ham, capocollo, salami, fried eggplant (again), provolone, hot salad (spicy), marinated mushrooms, lettuce, tomato, oil and vinegar. Can you spot them all? That’s surplus! Nicky Special is delicious. It has spicy flavors from the hot salad, a little sweet from the fried eggplant and plenty of savory flavors from the ham, capocollo, salami and provolone. The marinated mushrooms, lettuce and tomato gave it a nice crunch, but I fear were the prime culprits of some massive filling creep.

I’d recommend Defonte’s to anyone willing to listen. I’d also skip the fried eggplant in both of these sandwiches, it’s too sweet. Lastly, block out your schedule for a food coma and when you wake, you’ll think the same thing I did: “Defonte for Mayor!”

Defonte’s Earned high marks for both sandwiches:

Hello, roast beef:

Eek, not so close!

Hello, Nicky Special:

Don’t you look pretty:

The first layer is from 400BC: