The 49 Best Sandwich Shops in the United States

Banh Mi Hue Thai is a takeout sandwich counter on Garvey Avenue, where the baguette does most of the talking. It's thin-crusted and airy enough to crinkle when you bite it, without shredding the roof of your mouth, so even the house special with cold cuts tastes good. There's one table inside, which is more of a suggestion than a dining room, and it's cash only. Make a stop at the ATM first. The Infatuation put it on its list of the best bánh mì across America.

Turkey and the Wolf is a sandwich counter at the front of the Venetian's Via Via Food Hall, which means you eat at shared tables with Scarr's Pizza and Ivan Ramen as neighbors. The fried bologna sandwich comes on butter-griddled bread with potato chips tucked inside, and it's large even by Vegas standards. The collard green melt on rye is the one to split with whoever you brought. Counter-service prices, napkins required.

A sandwich counter in NoPa where modifications are not on the menu, full stop. The team builds everything with enough conviction that you'll forget you wanted to swap something out, and condiments like bagna cauda mayo and artichoke cream cheese make clear this is not a cold-cuts-and-mustard situation. The shop is takeout only, but Alamo Square Park is a short walk, which is either a feature or a hint to leave promptly.

Cheesesteaks and pizza from a shop that takes both more seriously than most fine-dining kitchens take their tasting menus. Little Arthur's started as a pop-up and landed in a sunny little beer bar on Seventh Avenue, where the sourcing is meticulous and the portions are generous enough to make the prices feel fair. Mozzarella sticks and loaded fries round out a menu that reads casual but cooks deliberate.

A fast-casual sandwich shop tucked inside a converted historic hospital, A Mano Panino is built around schiacciata, a Tuscan bread that lands somewhere between focaccia and a cracker in the best possible way. Roast beef with demi-glace, ahi tuna with caper mayo, the menu reads like someone took Italian technique seriously but still wanted lunch to be portable. The Michelin Guide gave it a Bib Gourmand, which tracks. Grab a seat on the patio.

A strip-mall butcher shop and deli in Newport Beach where the pastrami is cured in-house and the beef for the smash burger gets ground the same day. The Italian sub runs through Genoa, coppa, and soppressata, and the rotating specials board keeps things interesting. Regulars who already know their order fill the counter fast. Cheese, charcuterie, and house-made salads line the cases for the road.

An old-school deli in St. Louis's historic Italian-American neighborhood, Gioia's has been feeding the same families for so long that when a James Beard America's Classics award arrived, locals mostly just smiled politely. The hot salami sandwich, made from a house recipe of beef, pig's head, and spices and sliced to order, is what everyone comes for. Pick your bread, pick your cheese, and try not to overthink it.

Focaccia sandwiches stacked with Italian cold cuts are the entire point here, and Lorenzo California commits to that premise with no apologies. The tiny cafe on Santa Monica Boulevard does Florentine-style sandwiches from a small counter, with a few seats inside and a handful of tables outside for watching Beverly Hills do its thing. The Los Angeles Times put it on their 101 best restaurants list, which is a lot of recognition for a sandwich shop, and yet.

This is a counter-service breakfast sandwich shop that came up from Los Angeles and now collects sleepy tourists in a line that wraps around the building from early morning until noon. The sandwiches are warm, built to be carried, and priced like a sensible meal in a town that prefers otherwise. Eggs go on brioche or baguette, sometimes with steak, and nobody inside is dressed for anything beyond the walk back to the Strip.

A milkshake loaded with broken toffee, whipped cream, and a cherry is the move after a sandwich here, and the sandwich earns it. This Southern Highlands sandwich shop serves thick-cut heritage ham on country bread with hot honey, smash burgers with ghost sauce, and a croissant chicken salad, all casual-counter pricing. The shakes run a dozen options and trend toward maximalist. Good for a neighborhood lunch that doesn't make you feel like you're in a suburb.

Creekside Market is a casual sandwich counter on the road out of town toward Grand Teton National Park, which makes it the last stop before you commit to a day outdoors. A handwritten board lists the options, and the turkey club on a croissant is the move for anyone whose backpack lunch history involves a pancaked PB&J. Prices stay in sandwich territory, and nobody minds if you walk in wearing hiking boots.

Detroit 75 started as a food truck in a gas station parking lot, which is a fairly honest way to begin a sandwich career. The suburban Madison Heights spot is a counter-service lunch place where the Detroit-style cheesesteak arrives overflowing its sesame roll. The shrimp po'boy and the garlic cilantro fries with roasted jalapeño ketchup are also in rotation. You order at the counter, then take a seat in the airy dining room.

From the street, Hermosa looks like the hot dog and beef stand you grew up near, which is the joke, because inside it's a Cambodian sandwich shop with a fried chicken sandwich that has opinions. At night it quietly becomes a dinner tasting, where a group of up to 14 can take over the whole room for an 11-course BYOB spread. It's casual and counter-service, so dress for sandwiches, and bring the wine.

Schiacciata, the flatter, crispier Tuscan cousin of focaccia, is the foundation every sandwich here is built on. This downtown Petaluma deli, market, and bottle shop loads it with prosciutto, porchetta, or a spicy spreadable sausage, then piles on broccoli rabe or burrata depending on your sandwich of choice. The shelves behind you are stocked with oil-preserved chiles and Italian pantry goods, so it's easy to leave with more than you planned.

Sub Cultured is a walk-up sandwich window in Atlantic Beach, which means you order outside and eat wherever you can find a ledge. It's part of a crowded local sub scene where everyone has a loyalty and will defend it. The pressed cuban and the jalapeno-heavy Fuego Philly get the attention, and the crinkle-cut fries come with grilled onions, cheese whiz, and a sauce borrowed from In-N-Out. The Infatuation lists it among Jacksonville's best restaurants.

The bread comes from Leidenheimer, the legendary New Orleans bakery, which tells you most of what you need to know about this po'boy shop's priorities. Gulf seafood and roasted meats get stuffed into fresh baguettes with all the classic condiments, and a Thanksgiving Everyday option, turkey with cornbread stuffing and cranberry sauce, quietly steals the room. A bananas foster old-fashioned is on the cocktail list, because of course it is.

Greenberg's is a counter-service deli tucked under the fake apartment facade inside New York-New York, which is about as close as Las Vegas gets to a bodega with a sense of humor. The morning special runs under ten dollars and includes coffee, and the croissant sandwiches arrive roughly the size of a hubcap. A pastrami and corned beef breakfast burrito also exists here, and nobody in the building seems alarmed.

A line snaking out of a Thruway Shopping Center storefront at noon is the surest sign something is working. This family-owned sandwich and salad shop has been a Winston-Salem lunch fixture for decades, with regulars who come for the three-salad plates, spicy sesame noodles, and chicken salad, then linger over the daily specials board hoping the orange ginger grilled shrimp has shown up. Save room for a lemon bar.

The Hornet is a takeout sandwich counter tucked inside London Market in Pacific Heights, which is less a restaurant than a very well-organized errand. The menu of sandwiches and wraps changes daily, so you pick from a handful of options and hope nobody beat you to it. Ordering online helps, since the good ones sell out early and standing in a corner market staring at an empty chalkboard is a bleak way to spend lunch.

A sandwich shop in Chinatown that stays open until 1:30 a.m. on weekends, which tells you most of what you need to know. The team behind it includes a Howlin' Ray's veteran, so the menu earns its confidence: a spicy Italian loaded with 'nduja and stracciatella crema sits next to a peanut butter and jelly, and nobody seems bothered by the range. A double hot dog is also available, for those keeping score at home.

A sandwich counter tucked inside a Highland Park liquor store, run by a guy who left television writing and producing to make Reubens, which sounds like a premise for a sitcom he'd have rejected. The pastrami comes piled under melted Comte, sauerkraut, and house Russian on griddled seeded rye, with a Gruyere crisp. You order at the register, then claim one of the yellow tables on the sidewalk, ideally while the weather behaves.

An Italian-leaning specialty food shop that doubles as a sandwich counter, with crusty bread packed with combinations like fried zucchini and pesto or prosciutto and coppa. The shelves hold artisanal cheeses, salumi, preserves, and breads for anyone who wants to assemble something impressive at home. Been around forever under different ownership, and the new team moved it into a brighter space without losing the plot.

Thim Hing is a cash-only bánh mì counter where people leave carrying sandwiches by the armload, as if provisioning for a long voyage. Around lunch, trunks get loaded with plastic bags of the stuff. The baguette runs rail-thin and loud when you bite it, which means more crunch per square inch than the usual loaf. Bring cash, order for everyone you know, and expect to be the slowest person in line.

Bill's is a counter-service sandwich shop in Lockeland Springs that took over a beloved bakery's space after a stretch as a pop-up, and the menu rotates, so you're ordering on faith. Expect big, sloppy sandwiches, from meatloaf under a coat of sauce to roasted pork on focaccia, plus fried duros sold as Cheddy Ranch Puffs. Nashville Scene named it Best Sandwich Shop in 2024, so bring napkins and no plans for the afternoon.

Soy Cubano is a small, counter-service sandwich spot in a McKennie Ave strip, built around one thing: the Cuban. It arrives cut into neat triangles, with a thin toasted roll, two kinds of pork, Swiss, pickle, and the yellow mustard doing its job. It's a casual, order-at-the-register, wear-whatever kind of lunch, and it's the kind of place where precision is the whole personality. Nashville Scene named it Best Cuban Sandwich in 2023.