Regional Sandwiches You Need To Try Before You Die

When it comes to cheesesteaks and brotherly love, the passion runs deeper than the Cheez Whiz drips down your elbows. This culinary masterpiece traces its roots back to the 1930s when two brothers running a corner food stand got tired of hot dogs for lunch. Armed with meat scraps procured from the local butcher, they fired up the grill and unleashed a legend that still sizzles on the streets of Philadelphia today, marinating in its own delicious history. Surprisingly, the original recipe lacked a crucial ingredient: cheese. It wasn't until a store manager and notorious tippler named Cocky Joe Lorenza decided to dabble with provolone that the modern cheesesteak was born. Nowadays, you can find all sorts of cheese on steaks, as well as peppers, mushrooms, and hoagie fillings for an endless variety of Philly flavors.

The hot dog stand's success soon turned into a standalone restaurant known as Pat's King of Steaks. Across the street, Geno's emerged as another custodian of the cheesesteak crown. These two neighboring vendors are still the national representatives of the Philly Cheesesteak, and brotherly love is apparent in their rivalry. Pat's founders liken Geno's to the Krusty Krab's Chum Bucket, while Genos says Pat's is nothing more than a hot dog cart. For your first taste, head to the cheesesteak corner, where Pat's has 300 cans of Whiz waiting. While in line, decide if you want your sandwich "Whiz wit or wit-out." Whatever you do, don't walk up there and ask for Swiss cheese.

If you're starting to notice a pattern in these sandwiches, you're not wrong. It can be hard to describe American food because, just like any of us who don't have Native American ancestry, it all came from somewhere else. The beauty of American regional cuisine is how the food has morphed and twisted from its early immigration into an entirely new creation. Or, as the authors of "The Cuban Sandwich: A History In Layers" overviewed, "Like all great food stories, the history of the Cuban Sandwich is a story of people and their migration toward freedom and prosperity and away from war and political oppression."

How can one sandwich have all that power? It's basically a glorified ham and cheese sandwich using specific ingredients: Cuban bread cut in half, buttered, and stuffed with pickles and pork. In Cuba, the Cubano was just a sandwich; it wasn't until Cuban immigrants began to settle and shape the mangroves of Southern Florida into little Havana that the legend of the regional sandwich, and spirited debates over the proper ingredients, began. The heart of modern Cuban sandwiches is split between two cities, Tampa and Miami, each claiming the Cuban as its own. But instead of taking sides, let's take a bite — or two. Miami's by-the-book approach and Tampa's infusion of Genoa salami add a twist worthy of spending the weekend sampling the best of both worlds.

Unlike some sandwiches with strict ingredient lists, you can turn almost anything into a Po' Boy. Shrimp is probably the most popular protein ingredient, but Louisiana chefs have stuffed bread full of catfish, hot sausage, roast beef, crab, oysters, and anything else caught up in the nets last weekend. Three things make a Po Boy: a unique French bread that's not quite a baguette, a typically fried protein, and, perhaps most importantly, eating them in New Orleans. Besides those key features, the sandwiches are often served with lettuce, tomatoes, a remoulade or mustard sauce, and a rich history that envelops this sandwich like the wafting scents of fresh bread. 

New Orleans-based historians have spent over a decade tracking down the Po' Boy to settle once and for all where the sandwich got its stripes. It turns out this bread was baked into a good old-fashioned working-class revolution, earning its name during the 1929 streetcar strike. This was no simple protest — streetcars were being ripped off their tracks as locals united against taking a ride. New Orleans had seen ham and fried oyster sandwiches before the calamity, but it was two former conductors turned sandwich shop owners, the Martin brothers, who elevated a sandwich into an icon when they used them to feed the "poor boys" left jobless by the strike.

Lobster used to be to New England what shrimp is to Alabama. You could barbecue lobster, saute it, boil it, dey's uh, lobster-kabobs, the list goes on and on. While the crustacean is now considered a delicacy, they used to lounge on the beaches in piles and were gathered by hand along the shoreline. As lobster became a sought-after delicacy, sandwiches emerged as a favored choice among harvesters, making a quick and satisfying meal out of a few pieces of white bread, butter, and the day's unsold catch. The rolls have never shed their working-class appeal, here to help us all enjoy more lobster without taking out a loan. Even today, some of the greatest lobster roll specialists argue a drop of lemon or a spoonful of mayonnaise is the only seasoning this beautiful sandwich requires. 

Fortunately, lobster sandwiches themselves did receive a facelift beyond the soggy white bread and transitioned to a more fitting vessel — the hot dog bun. The transition from bread to bun was facilitated by the owners of Perry's Restaurant in Milford, Connecticut, who made the sandwich at the request of a traveling liquor salesman. Later, white bread evolved into a roll, after realizing sliced bread just wouldn't cut it. 

There are two modern schools of lobster rolls: Maine and Connecticut style. Maine rolls let cold meat mix with mayonnaise, while Connecticut keeps the ingredients to a minimum, serving up lobster meat hot and buttery.

While the rest of the world might know Chicago for its deep dish or hot dogs, Italian Beef Sandwiches are finally getting the recognition they deserve since the release of "The Bear" took us further into a commercial kitchen than ever before. The sandwich is the first dish seen in the show when the flawed central character tries to put his own spin on the Italian Beef sandwich. He soon found out that tinkering with traditional Italian beef is absolute blasphemy around those parts. 

Behind each thinly sliced beef sandwich are decades of traditional cooking techniques and hours of simmering roast, not to mention a unique blend of Italian spices that marinates alongside. Real-life icon's like Al's Italian Beef take great pride in noting their recipes have not changed since they opened their doors in the late 1930s. While it's been simmering a long, long time, serving an Italian beef sandwich is as simple as three steps: scooping juicy beef onto a French loaf, a glorious plunge into the savory jus, and slathering on a thick layer of giardiniera. Behind that succulent sauce lies the key to ordering Italian beef like a local. For your first dip, you've got to go for a hot and wet sandwich, dripping in the fruits of the beef slow roast and seasoned just right.

In Charlottesville, Virginia, you celebrate love and death with country ham. This delicacy is ubiquitous with weddings, funerals, church Sundays, tailgate Saturdays, and leftover Mondays, ready to fill all bellies for all occasions. Its prevalence in all walks of life earned the Country Ham Biscuit recognition as Charlottesville's signature dish after prominent local food experts spent months searching for what distinguishes them the most. They found the same thing you will — a ham biscuit on pretty much every corner. The biscuit is everywhere in Virginia, and it was an important tradition by debutants and the formerly enslaved folks of Freetown alike.

The universal acclaim has led to many variations, especially for a sandwich with all the essential ingredients written into the title. The most common topping is mustard, but myriad sweet and salty relishes, preserves, butters, and cheese have etched out a place on the table. Then there's the biscuit itself. The doughy, flaky buns come in small, large, and sandwich sizes. While they are traditionally made out of buttermilk, Virginia ham pairs just as well with sweet potato biscuits and dinner rolls. The only real rule for this sandwich is that you've got to make heaps of them.