Food is deeply personal—especially food rooted in a specific place, perhaps tied to cherished memories or milestones (the Nashville hot chicken joint you went to with your grandma after church every Sunday, the torta you first tried on a high school graduation trip to Mexico City). Thus, we realize that an inherently subjective roundup of the tastiest local versions of regional specialty sandwiches from around the globe has the potential to incite reader rage. How did you idiots miss Odie B’s? Where’s the lobster roll? What kind of monster puts mayonnaise on an Italian combo???

We have an answer for the last question, at least: Joshua Pollack. His Bridge & Tunnel Restaurant Group brings New York City eats to Denver via Rosenberg’s Bagels & Delicatessen, Famous Original J’s Pizza, and Lou’s Italian Specialties, where he employs a highly controversial slick of mayonnaise as a lipid barrier to keep the bread on his Italian combo from getting soggy. To plenty of Italian Americans on the East Coast outside of North Jersey (where mayo came standard on the hoagies Pollack grew up eating) its inclusion is an unforgivable desecration—something Pollack hears about a lot.

5280 April 2025
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“We have the joy of serving many New York transplants, and my people tend to be the most outwardly opinionated people in the country,” he says. “When people are like, That’s blasphemous, I’m like, Well, that’s how I grew up eating it. You can order it without. But no, they want to sit there and tell you why it doesn’t belong on the sandwich.”

Instead of stopping Pollack, though, he says the criticism fuels him: “That’s why I love doing what I do. People are so passionate about this food. Even when people freak out and write a bad review, I just smile, because it means so much to them.” So, kindly leave out the name-calling but please bring on the feedback, especially if you don’t agree with our 17 picks below. Tell us which spots and delicacies we left out. Like Pollack, we promise to smile—and maybe even to update this story in the future with your best recs.

Jump Ahead:

1. Katsu Sando

  • From: Kumoya
  • Address: 2400 W. 32nd Ave., Denver (Highland)
  • Sandwich origin: Tokyo

The Japanese pork katsu sando counts among those craveable dishes that draw attention on social media before they’re even readily available in a given market. The allure? Fluffy, snow-white slices of milk bread called shokupan conform like a topographic map around a thick slab of breaded and fried pork cutlet. Add some glistening greens and a drippy sauce, and you have a TikTok star.

But the katsu sando’s online ubiquity stands in inverse proportion to its presence in Denver restaurants. It goes back to that shokupan; it’s crucial to the overall texture, appearance, and taste of many Japanese sandwiches, but it’s tricky to bake. Pastry chef William O’Leary is one of the few locals attempting it, specifically for 18-month-old Highland sushi bar and izakaya Kumoya’s katsu sando. Here, the bread is sliced relatively thin and shorn of its crusts before being layered with crisp-coated Berkshire pork (tender and thoroughly toothsome), light napa cabbage slaw, Asian pear, savory-sweet tonkatsu sauce, and a swipe of curry aïoli. The sandwich comes cut into fat quarters run through with bamboo skewers to maintain their eye-pleasing symmetry and geometry.

If this is your introduction into yoshoku—Japanese versions of Western foods—enjoy the sando as a shared appetizer before diving into Kumoya’s always-impressive list of more traditional sushi and small plates. Or grab a stool at the sultry back bar and keep the whole thing to yourself, sided with a cocktail or a glass of chewy, unfiltered nigori sake. —Mark Antonation

Read More: Kumoya Brings Rare-in-Denver Dry-Aged Fish and Other Delicious Japanese Eats to LoHi

2. Pork Tenderloin

  • From: Bull & Bush Brewery
  • Address: 4700 Cherry Creek S. Dr., Denver (Glendale)
  • Sandwich origin: Indiana

The pork tenderloin sandwich may have been created by an Indiana restaurateur of German descent in the early 1900s, but some of its best expressions today are served in Iowa, where fair food absurdity is celebrated year-round. In fact, on the menu at Glendale’s Bull & Bush Brewery—which opened in 1971 and added a suds operation in 1996—it’s called the Iowa State Fair Sandwich. Here, the numbers that make this iteration a blue-ribbon winner. —JL

30: Minutes Bull & Bush’s cooks spend every day hammering pork tenderloins with a mallet to get the meat wide and thin

4:1: The ratio of the breaded pork loin to the bun, which appears comically small (and rightly so)

0: Vegetables on the sandwich; a pile of lettuce, tomato slices, and pickles is respectfully served on the side so as not to frighten produce-averse Midwesterners

3. Fried Hot Chicken

Photo by David Williams

Hot chicken is not so much a dish as it is a rite of passage, like a midwinter cold plunge or a fraternity hazing ritual. Born in Nashville’s Black communities nearly a century ago—and now a nationwide obsession—the sandwich in its best form is a slow-burning gustatory revelation. At this moment in Denver, no one does it better than Music City Hot Chicken.

Started in Fort Collins in 2016, the three-year-old satellite in the back of Broadway’s heavy-metal-themed TRVE Brewing Co. is a small kitchen that flashes like a beam of white light at the end of a dark tunnel. Follow it and order the simply named chicken sandwich: a slab of moist and perfectly fried thigh bathed in one of seven heat levels. While we appreciate the Colorado-specific green chile blend (lowest on the heat scale), our go-to is the classic Nashville Hot, whose orange-hued sauce made from arbol chiles is near the midpoint on Music City’s spectrum. Don’t be fooled, though: This is some seriously spicy stuff. The included slaw is an earthy addition that brings the sandwich back to its country roots, but it won’t put out the fire. —Robert Sanchez

Read More: 6 of the Hottest Hot Chicken Sandwiches in Denver, Ranked by Spiciness

4. Pueblo Slopper

The trading card tidbits you need to know about this elusive hometown hero, which we tracked down at Jack’s Bar & Grill in northwest Arvada. —Allyson Reedy

First appearance: Pueblo, Colorado

Origin story: The Slopper was born as early as the 1950s, but like the sandwich, the rest of its history is a bit messy. Gray’s Coors Tavern and Star Bar, divey watering holes in Pueblo, both claim to have invented the open-faced cheeseburger doused with green chile (chopped onions optional).

Moniker: Legend has it the name came from a customer saying it “looked like slop.”

Current lair: Fifteen-year-old Jack’s Bar & Grill—a casual venue with morning, noon, and night eats—is one of the few spots in metro Denver selling Sloppers as Sloppers. (Note: You may find them lurking on other local menus, disguised as Mexican hamburgers.)

Superpower: When owner Jack Miller, who went to college in Pueblo, can get them, peppers grown in southern Colorado give his green chile a smoky heat. Miller also splits the traditional burger into three hockey-puck-size sliders (sans top buns).

Weakness: The Slopper explodes on contact if picked up by hand but is easily sliced apart with a fork and knife.

Read More: We Blind Tasted 14 Denver Green Chiles. Here Are the Best.

5. Cheesesteak

Year-round Christmas trees and twinkly lights, Iron Maiden on the speakers, and a menu that features hummus and gyros may not sound like hallmarks of a spot that serves a great cheesesteak. But stick with us: This Westminster strip mall bar and grill, opened more than a decade ago, is where you’ll find one of the best around. That’s because chef-owner Mesut Cetin digs the Philadelphia-born sandwich, and when the Turkey native digs something—like the holidays or heavy metal—he goes all in. “I love a Philly cheesesteak sandwich; that’s the bottom line,” Cetin says. “I love Christmas, I love Iron Maiden, I’m a ’70s and ’80s guy. I put everything I love into this restaurant.”

For his take, Cetin grills and chops the meat, some bits crispy and some tender, on a flattop with nothing more than salt and pepper. He loads it up with an unholy amount of caramelized onions and a blanket of delightfully gooey (if nontraditional) Swiss cheese that melts into every beefy nook and cranny. It’s all served steaming on a crusty roll with a side of bottomless hand-cut fries. Pressed to divulge a secret ingredient, Cetin swears there isn’t one; to prove it, he invites diners to watch him cook in Aspen Lodge’s open kitchen. Maybe cheesesteaks just taste better under the glow of twinkly lights. —AR

6. Smørrebrød

Photo by David Williams
  • From: Süti & Co.
  • Address: 2031 16th St., Boulder
  • Sandwich origin: Denmark

Traditional Danish-style sourdough rye bread (or brød) is earthy and dense, packed with cracked whole grains and seeds, and far more substantive than a New York–style rye. Plastered with butter (or smør), it’s filling enough to stand on its own. But when the slab is topped with protein and bright garnishes, it becomes a satisfying meal that can carry you from lunch to dinner, which is how the treat supposedly originated among laborers in 19th-century Denmark.

At Boulder’s two-year-old hygge hotbed Süti & Co., the open-faced sandwiches were such a hit on a once-a-week plan that chef Andrea Uzarowski etched them into the menu full time. She artfully arranges various toppings like avocado, egg salad, salmon, and tomato atop slices of fresh brød from Louisville’s Moxie Bread Co. We love the whimsical look and flavorful combo of smoked beet spread, pickled cucumber, and hard-boiled egg sprinkled with savory granola—a classic example of the Danish commitment to form and function. —Maren Horjus

Read More: 3 New Bakeries in Denver and Boulder Worth Visiting Now

7. BEC

  • From: Big Apple Bodega
  • Address: 2231 S. Broadway, Denver (Overland)
  • Sandwich origin: New York City

My husband is a pretty mild-mannered guy, but a few topics are guaranteed to fire him up: the Hartford Whalers leaving his home state of Connecticut, the Eagles (he hates the effing Eagles), and the lack of NYC-bodega-style breakfast sandwiches in Denver. A double-digit price tag, a 10-minute wait, or a microwaved egg are all rant-inducing offenses. “It’s not that hard. You just get the flattop going and crank them out.” “Why is there so much meat?” “I’m going to start baking hard rolls.” He speaks from experience, having spent college summers at a deli in the tri-state area, whipping up BECs (bacon, egg, and cheese) for commuters on their way into the city.

So, I was optimistic about Big Apple Bodega, a food truck recently turned South Broadway brick-and-mortar. Although proprietor Brian Murphy, who grew up on Long Island, focuses on variations of the chopped cheese sandwich—another NYC specialty with ground beef, grilled onions, American cheese, lettuce, tomato, mayo, and ketchup—he makes $6 BECs on weekends. My hubby’s assessment? The round roll is solid, even though it lacks poppyseeds; the over-medium eggs are a vast improvement on scrambled; the speed and modest proportions are just right for what should be a quick, on-the-go breakfast; and being asked “SPK?” (New Yorker for salt, pepper, and ketchup) is a nice touch. I thought they were tasty, too—but the best part was enjoying them in contented silence. —JL

8. Muffuletta

  • From: Spinelli’s Market
  • Address: 4621 E. 23rd Ave., Denver (North Park Hill)
  • Sandwich origin: New Orleans

My ancestors came to the United States in the early 1900s from Palermo, Italy, right around the time fellow Sicilian Salvatore Lupo is rumored to have invented the muffuletta in New Orleans’ French Quarter. While the sammie’s origins aren’t up for debate, just about everything else is (including whether to serve it hot or cold). I asked Kardi Constance, general manager of Italian deli Spinelli’s Market in Park Hill, to dissect her version—the city’s best, in this Sicilian’s not-so-humble opinion. —Jessica Giles

Bread: The round loaf that gives the sandwich its name is topped with sesame seeds, crispy on the outside, and soft on the inside. Spinelli’s uses ciabattini rolls from Breadworks Bakery & Cafe in Boulder.

Olive salad: Spinelli’s tangy spread includes Kalamata olives, Spanish olives, roasted red peppers, Mexican oregano, fresh parsley, and lots of oil. While some restaurants add spicy giardiniera, Constance opts for a dash of red wine vinegar.

Meats: A traditional muffuletta includes thinly sliced genoa salami, ham, and mortadella, but Spinelli’s skips the ham. All the better to taste the pistachio-studded mortadella, which the deli imports from Italy. In addition to a few slices of provolone, the deli piles about a quarter-pound of meat on each sandwich.

Temperature: You’ll find it both ways in New Orleans. Constance prefers it cold, so that’s how it comes at Spinelli’s. The deli will warm it, though, if you’re one of those.

9. Torta

Photo by David Williams

Nearly a decade ago, Jesus Cruz and his family took over an unassuming restaurant space under the awning of a downtown Englewood Conoco station, turning it into Garibaldi Mexican Bistro, where the menu includes a tribute to the antojitos of Mexico City. Among the tempting street snacks, you’ll find a variation on the torta that wears its bold sauce on the outside.

The pambazo takes its name from pan bajo, a simple, fine-crumbed bread that has fed the people of Mexico City for centuries. Here, the baguette-shaped roll gets dunked in a brick-red salsa made with guajillo chiles; split open and stuffed with traditional chorizo and soft-cooked potato; and then crisped quickly on the griddle. The other ingredients—shredded lettuce, crema, a sprinkle of cheese—serve to quench the incendiary sauce. The result is a barrage of salty, spicy, smoky, and creamy flavors that can seem as chaotic and intimidating as a first impression of Mexico City but as comforting and welcoming to those who return again and again. —MA

Read More: The Ultimate List of Denver’s Top Tacos

10. Barbecue Brisket

  • From: Post Oak Barbecue
  • Address: 4000 Tennyson St., Denver (Berkeley)
  • Sandwich origin: Texas

A native of the Lone Star State, I’m often disappointed by barbecue spots that boast about their Texas bona fides only to serve up oversauced, overseasoned rumps of meat. Texas brisket, like Texas itself, stands on its own. Barbecue sandwiches are allowed tiny embellishments—pickles, sauce, bun, raw onion—but anything fancy is an indicator that the purveyor is more California than country.

You can imagine my dismay, then, when I learned Post Oak’s Texas Style sandwich is saddled with deep-fried onions, a sure desecration of the sacred cow. Nick Prince, Post Oak’s owner, expected such skepticism, which is why he spent weeks experimenting with breading that’s light enough to highlight, rather than overwhelm, the flavor of the barbecue. He succeeded, which is good news because brisket is the star at Post Oak, and it shines bright. The Tennyson outfit’s beef is sourced from the “home country,” as Prince calls the state of his birth, and smoked over genuine central Texas post oak for 14 hours. As far as spices go? Salt, pepper, and garlic powder; that’s it. For the Texas Style sammie, the tender, smoky slab is dressed with sour pickles, a dollop of tangy sauce, and those heretical onions. Even I have to admit they enhance the beef’s smokiness by delivering a slight salty crunch to every bite. It tastes just like the real thing—only better. —Spencer Campbell

Read More: Post Oak Barbecue is a Native Texan’s Love Letter to His Home State

11. French Dip

  • From: Pony Up
  • Address: 1808 Blake St., Denver (LoDo)
  • Sandwich origin: Los Angeles

The inventor of the French dip was from France, but that’s the extent of la République’s role in the sandwich’s provenance: Philippe Mathieu ran a diner in Los Angeles where, in 1918, he accidentally dropped a French roll into a roasting pan full of oven-hot juices. At seven-year-old LoDo pub Pony Up, owner Angela Neri recreates several versions of that unexpected marriage. Our favorites include one traditional preparation and two more progressive offerings, creating a dip à trois to suit a variety of tastes. —SC

The Alameda Street: Named after the street on which Mathieu’s LA restaurant resides, this tribute to the original comprises roast beef, mayo, and rosemary on ciabatta with a side of beef jus. The meat is slow-cooked to a tender medium rare, and the bread has a toasty crust and a spongy crumb to sop up the savory sauce.

The Frenchie: Inside Pony Up, Denver’s Patrick Kane McGregor painted a mural of King Louie, Neri’s French bulldog, who inspired this rendition. Its prime rib and ciabatta are, like Louie, dressed royally: crowned with Gruyère and crispy onions and accompanied by decadent French onion jus.

The Saigon: This bánh-mì-inspired variation has become an overwhelming favorite of patrons, thanks to pork shoulder that’s roasted overnight and pillows of fat that crisp the edges. Spicy mayo and pickled jalapeño slices bring heat to the meat, and an umami-rich pho broth deepens the flavor of the ciabatta-sheathed Saigon.

12. Reuben

Photo by David Williams
  • From: Leven Deli
  • Address: 123 W. 12th Ave., Denver (Civic Center)
  • Sandwich origin: New York City

Though the Reuben is widely thought of as an NYC specialty, it may have actually been born in Omaha, Nebraska—whipped up for one Reuben Kulakofsky during a hunger-inducing game of poker. However, plenty argue it was first concocted by Arnold Reuben, a New York delicatessen owner, and it’s that tradition to which seven-year-old Leven Deli, located near the Denver Art Museum in the Golden Triangle, adheres.

Its Reuben swaps the traditional corned beef for tender pastrami, which the restaurant makes via a 12-day process that involves aging, curing, and smoking a cut of brisket rubbed with a custom blend of spices. “It’s a true labor of love,” owner Anthony Lygizos says. Sliced and piled high, the pastrami is loaded up with a creamy house-made Russian dressing that gets a pop of acidity from pickled mustard seeds. A heap of crisp white-cabbage slaw is insulated by a melty slice of Jarlsberg cheese to prevent the cardinal sin of sandwiches, soggy bread—which would be a shameful fate indeed for Leven’s house-made, naturally leavened rye with a hint of fermented onion and plenty of caraway seeds. —Michelle Shortall

13. Italian

As a Midwestern teen, my Subway order was turkey on white, extra mayo. So, how did I end up at Lou’s Italian Specialties in Curtis Park for the Louie—ham, capicola, genoa salami, provolone, lettuce, tomato, onion, mayo, oil, and vinegar on crusty City Bakery bread—on the way home from Rose Medical Center after delivering my firstborn? The same way I landed in that hospital in the first place: my husband. A New Englander with a family tree full of Luigis, he turned me into an Italian combo devotee. It was rough, then, when I had to go off cold cuts (pesky pregnancy restrictions).

I asked Joshua Pollack, the proprietor of six-year-old Lou’s, what inspired his take on the sandwich with many variations—and many names—in Italian American communities across the Northeast. —JL

5280: Sub, hoagie, hero…what do you call it?
Joshua Pollack: It’s a hoagie for me. When I moved away from North Jersey, it was the first time I ate fast food. In the Northeast, there are dozens of mom-and-pop shops in every little town. I try to uphold the food lineage of those families, who brought their cooking techniques to New York City when they immigrated.

What inspired the Louie?
Back home, there were three main delis in my rotation, and they all had a similar combination of about three meats. They traditionally have tomato. I like red onion. And then, this is a very important part: We call it shredduce. You gotta have that shredded lettuce, because the next step is straight-up oil and vinegar and some salt, pepper, and oregano. The shredded lettuce holds the oil in place.

It also has mayonnaise. This is controversial.
It is. But it was on the hoagies I grew up eating. A thin layer makes it so the oil and vinegar don’t sog out the sandwich. That little bit of mayonnaise mixing into the flavor became part of my nostalgia. We hear about it, though, when someone says no mayo and we accidentally put mayo on it.

Read More: Josh Pollack of Rosenberg’s Bagels Expands His Empire With Lou’s Italian Specialties

14. Churrasco

  • From: Cachai Chilean Food
  • Address: 167 W. Alameda Ave., Denver (Baker)
  • Sandwich origin: Chile

One of the things I miss most about Chile is the bread. In my hometown of Valdivia, bakeries are everywhere, and amateur makers sell their loaves and flats on nearly every corner. (It’s estimated that Chileans eat an average of 216 pounds of bread per person annually—second only to Germans.) Thus, carb cravings are basically my birthright, and it was a particularly strong one that led me to Cachai Chilean Food.

Although cousins and Chile natives Mayra Chacon and Valentin Julio serve hot dogs and empanadas from their 18-month-old food truck, most patrons line up during the weekday lunch rush for the 16 variations of churrascos, Chile’s signature sandwiches, which are often loaded with sliced meat and salted vegetable toppings (traditionally, green beans). While they’re considered quick street eats back home, Cachai elevates them by stuffing soft hamburger buns with steak, shredded beef, chicken, or pork and topping them with flavorful additions like avocado and tomato. The churrasco dinámico—thinly sliced skirt steak, sauerkraut, avocado, salsa Americana, mayo, and tomato—satisfies my longing for my favorite Valdivian sandwich shop every time. —Barbara O’Neil

Read More: Cachai Chilean Food is the Only Place Serving Up Chilean Street Food in Denver

15. Bánh Mì

Photo by David Williams

This handheld has French and Vietnamese roots, so perhaps it’s not surprising that the best version in Denver does, too—even if it took more than a century to get here. In the late 1800s, French colonizers brought Gallic baguettes to the region they called Indochina; eventually, the denizens of Saigon adapted the European sandwich to local tastes (softer bread, tangy pickled vegetables, spicy peppers). Fast-forward to 2010, when Thoa Nguyen left her family’s iconic Federal Boulevard restaurant, New Saigon, to study pastry-making in Paris. Twelve years later, she opened Bánh & Butter Bakery Café, a bright, airy spot in Aurora.

There and now, the Vietnamese cold-cut sandwich brings it all together: three different cuts of pork, a creamy, umami-rich pâté, extra-crunchy pickled sweet-and-sour veggies, and slices of mild jalapeños, all layered into Nguyen’s crispy-chewy house-made baguettes. As a nod to the bánh mì’s origins as a breakfast street food, you can add a fried egg, but we prefer to save room for another mashup: cream puffs in Asian-inspired flavors such as ube and pandan coconut. —Charli Ornett

Read More: 4 Must-Order Goodies at Bánh & Butter Bakery Café

16. Juicy Lucy

  • From: Lucy’s Burger Bar
  • Address: 4018 Tennyson St., Denver (Berkeley)
  • Sandwich origin: Minneapolis

This hyper-regional burger was invented when a patron at South Minneapolis’ Matt’s Bar asked for two hamburger patties with a slice of cheese in the middle. He reportedly bit into it and, like a good ol’ Minnesotan, said, “That’s one juicy Lucy!” For today’s renditions, prevalent across the Twin Cities, sharp American cheese is sealed between two patties before they’re cooked. The cheese melts into the meat, and its gooey goodness oozes out when you bite in.

Lucy’s Burger Bar owner Michelle McGlone—who missed her hometown burger so much that she opened her Berkeley restaurant devoted to them in 2021—spent four months testing beef and cheese combos. Her ideal Lucy: a 78/22 Angus chuck blend with Boar’s Head sharp American. (“Don’t even mention this cheese in the same sentence as Kraft singles,” she says.) At the cheery diner-style restaurant, the sandwich is served with a side of eating instructions, including “Lips back, teeth out, posture forward.” Our suggestion: Start with a nibble so you don’t get a full-on molten river of cheese down your face. —AR

Read More: The Best Burgers in Denver and Beyond

17. Cubano

Before she bought Aurora’s Cuba Bakery & Café, Briony Hudson was just a loyal customer. But when the original owners, immigrants from Cuba, decided to sell three years ago, she (along with her husband, Marco, and business partner and friend Michael Griffin) saw an opportunity to turn her daily lunch run into her bread and butter.

Briony, who is Jamaican, put her own spin on the menu by adding Caribbean spices to dishes like the marinated oxtail—but one item she didn’t touch? The beloved Cubano, the restaurant’s best-seller. Just like her predecessors did, Briony stacks ham, slow-roasted pork, mustard, pickles, and Swiss cheese inside white, baguette-esque Cuban bread that’s baked fresh in-house each morning. The pork, slow-roasted for hours and drizzled with mojo, gives the Cubano its signature punch. The result is a crunchy, flavorful sandwich that draws long lines during weekday lunch hours. While the shop stays true to Miami’s take on the Cubano, there’s one local twist: crispy potato slivers on the side.

“French fries aren’t Cuban at all,” manager Lauren Hernandez says. “But people kept asking for them—so now they’re part of the meal.” —BO

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