When we sat down with chef Rich Landau of Horizons, we knew what to expect: incredibly current, creative, fresh, full and layered flavors in food that just so happens to be vegan. The only thing we didn’t know is how exactly we’d be tickled.  If you don’t know Rich and Horizons, you need to get yourself an education.  Rich is a pioneer in the vegan scene, but is also breaking ground among the top chefs ever in America, earning the historic distinction of being the first chef honored to cook a full vegan menu for the James Beard House. That’s why we were so excited when Rich accepted our invitation to create a burger for National Hamburger Month.

Full Disclosure:  I am a recovering (relapsed?) vegetarian that is currently considering the transition back to plates of beans and grains, greens and roasted tomatoes.  See, the problem that I have is the same one that inspired Rich’s culinary journey into ethical food.  Vegetarian food at restaurants is usually so very bland, utilitarian and lacking in character.  Rich didn’t choose not to eat meat because of his disgust for flavor, in fact he still is inspired by meat dishes that he encounters during weekly discovery at local restaurants.  He and his wife pastry chef Kate Jacoby are always devouring new food knowledge and encouraging one another to push flavor and creativity further.  He certainly flexed his culinary muscles for us with his Seitan Banh Mi Sliders.

The sandwich starts with seitan made especially for the restaurant by Ray’s Seitan, which the chef infuses with lemongrass and kafir lime stock and red chili.  The seitan is browned on a flat-top grill before being ground and formed into burger patties.  After griddling the burger, it’s topped with a pickled diakon slaw made with carrot, green chili, cilantro and scallions with a bit of rice-wine vinegar.  The burger is served on baguette rounds spread with vegan sriracha-infused mayonnaise and a bit of cumin oil.

Together the sharp spice of Sriracha and fresh green chili, the sweet of lemongrass and cilantro, the crunch and oil brought by the grilled Seitan, the tangy daikon slaw and my “carnivorous” ripping into the chewy homemade baguette left me grinning that food smile from the first bite.  In my mind I’m not eating vegan food, and I’m not necessarily eating a burger: I’m eating a delicious flavor and texture combination that I wish there were more of (perhaps it’s the free glutamates/Umami in Seitan?).  In essence, my reaction is exactly what Rich is going for, as evidenced with his proclamation that “it’s all about reaching out to the mainstream.  I want the suit and tie wearing, motorcycle riding, family raising, aspiring, thriving community to eat these ingredients and enjoy fresh food.”  While everything that goes into Horizon’s food is ethical, environmental and healthy – none of it works unless the food is this dang good.

The Banh Mi Sliders will appear on the weekday, weather permitting Happy Hour menu which starts Tuesday, 5/18, served between 5-6 pm outside and are an absolute bargain at $4 for two.  We expect this to become one of Philly’s staple happy hour foods.  Go here. Eat this. Expand your horizons with some food that does no harm and tastes so fine.  With meals this delicious, I could definitely look past meat again, even with all the ridiculous meaty treats Philadelphia has to offer.

Horizons
611 South 7th Street – Philadelphia, PA 19147 (Google Map)

Midtown Village’s modern Asian restaurant Sampan started offering a delicious lunch menu last week. “Our variety of banh mi sandwiches, noodles and salads are perfect for a fast, affordable lunch,” says Chef Michael Schulson. We had the opportunity to stop by and try all six brand-new delicious banh mi.

Schulson came to Philadelphia roughly twelve years ago and along his many stops to try out the local fare he happened upon the banh mi sandwiches available at a few Vietnamese restaurants and bakeries along Washington Avenue in South Philadelphia. Drawing from these sandwiches as inspiration, he created several of his own using fresh and exotic ingredients to bring about intensely robust flavors. Influenced not only by Vietnamese cuisine, Sampan’s “Banh Midtown” are truly a representation of not only pan-Asian cuisine but domestic offerings such as the cheesesteak and meatball sub. Schulson and his banh mi were recently featured on the NBC’s Today Show and The Philadelphia Inquirer cited Sampan’s version as “one of the wonders of the sandwich world.”

However, now we get to feast upon six wonders. The Pork features Berkshire belly sitting on a bed of lettuce, cucumber and carrot strips. The Chicken, which is decidedly Japanese in origin, contains katsu-style fried chicken breast and Oshinko (pickled Chinese cabbage) with a mustard spread. The Tuna, of Thai origin, is a medley of tuna, pickled cucumber, scallion and Thai basil.

For more of an Asian-fusion experience, Sampan also offers fluke; it completes the flavor of the breaded, fried fish with bacon, BBQ potato chips and tartar sauce. The steak version is truly an exquisite offering with the complement of spicy shallot, tomato and a sunny-side egg. For an Italian spin, the meatball takes red sauce, parmesan cheese with the addition of Thai basil, fish sauce and lettuce.

With lunch offered from 11:30am-5pm, a menu extending well-beyond just these six sandwiches and with prices ranging from $6 to $9, including not only sandwiches but ramen and more, we’re sure Sampan’s new lunch menu will be a hit.

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Sampan
124 S. 13th Street – Philadelphia, PA 19107 (Google Map)
(215) 732-3501
Twitter: @MichaelSchulson

• In a review of a D.C. area shop that serves Philly style sandwiches, the roast pork gets a shout out, and the props it deserves. [Washington Post via The Illadelph]

• A delicious combination of sweet and savory, how could you go wrong with smoked ham, turkey, and Swiss on French toast with berry jam for dipping? [Coconut & Lime]

• David Snyder finds Daniel Stern’s MidAtlantic lacking some focus and execution but the housemade beef neck, short rib, and brisket hot dogs boast “brilliant flavor and texture.” [Philadelphia Citypaper]

• Rick Nichols paid a visit to Michael Schulson’s Sampan, and can’t stop talking about the 24-hour marinated pork belly banh mi. [Philadelphia Inquirer]

When Annie Tran opened Q.T. Vietnamese Sandwich a year ago, she wanted to offer a banh mi that was closer to the authentic sandwiches than anything she could find in South Philadelphia.  And to ensure that the food was true to the traditional, she brought in her mother, whose recipes come directly from cooking at her temple in Vietnam.

Having  tried all of the local bread producers, Annie settled on a bakery in New Jersey whose rolls are crispy, soft, and “not too bready.”   Lightly toasted before serving, it is a perfect canvas for the mayo, cucumber, pickled carrot, jalapeno and cilantro that accompany the selection of proteins.

The house special, a combination of Vietnamese ham (cha lua), slow cooked BBQ pork (nem nuong), and pork ears (thit nguoi), is served with a spread of pork liver pate.  Other meat options include pork, chicken or beef that is marinated in lemongrass and fish sauce before being grilled.  Vegetarians have a couple options of fried tofu sandwiches – which are kept entirely separate from meat sandwiches – prepared either with a lemongrass marinade or sautéed with onions and mushrooms.  And for those who still cannot decide, ask for a half-and-half with two fillings.

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Q.T. Vietnamese Sandwich
48 N. 10th St., Philadelphia PA 19107 (Google Map)

On a sunny corner of South Street that straddles Washington West and Bella Vista, seemingly miles removed from the blaring car stereos a few blocks to the east, Supper’s new lunch menu boldly re-imagines classic sandwiches with a welcoming, come as you are attitude.

Acclaimed Chef Mitch Prensky strives to create “the ultimate version” of iconic sandwiches, adding his own stamp to a Reuben, a French Dip, a Hot Dog and a Banh Mi.  Having once worked as Sous Chef for the lunch service at Bobby Flay’s Mesa Grill (in addition to his classic French training and New York fine dining experience,) Chef Prensky truly loves the action at lunch and needed to get his ideas for sandwiches out onto plates.  Now available Monday through Saturday, Supper’s lunch menu has some serious sandwich action.

Supper’s version of the Reuben is served on Famous 4th Street rye bread, sliced thick and brushed with bacon fat and a mustard aoili.  Fried carnitas-style pork belly is tossed with thousand island dressing, and toasted with cooked sauerkraut under a layer of gruyere.  Chef tops the open-faced sandwich with apple chutney because pork, apple and gruyere work so well together, even when served as a reuben with a side of pastrami chips.

The Banh Mi features crispy fried Malaysian-inspired squid with bits of spicy Sichuan sausage, heaps of cilantro, lettuce and pickled peppers on a baguette that was baked fresh a few blocks away at Ba Le Bakery, paired with five spice chips.

The Supper Dog is made in house from 100% pork shoulder – “all killer, no filler” – on a house baked, buttered bun.  Wrapped in bacon and deep fried, it is served with grain mustard, BBQ onions, kraut and buttermilk fried pickles.  The Lamb French Dip, served with Herbs de Provence chips, is made from house-prepared lamb pastrami and lamb jus, is served with feta and olives on a baguette cut on a bias to help with the dipping.

The menu also features a burger borrowed from the dinner menu with horseradish cream, roasted tomatoes, caramelized onions, gruyere and a side of duck fat fingerlings. The lobster roll is served as a tried and true classic and paired with Old Bay chips.  Traditional fresh steamed lobster is mixed with lemon aioli, chopped celery, salt and pepper on a top-loaded buttered bun.

Chef Prensky is openly enthusiastic about sandwiches because in his opinion, the layers of ingredients combine to make each bite the perfect bite.  Among his local favorites are John’s Roast Pork, Sarcone’s, Jim’s Steaks, Ba Le Bakery, even a late night panini at Old Nelson.  He stresses that people should not overlook the bread when making sandwiches – you want the right type, the right thickness, and sometimes, like with their house made charcuterie, older bread can better than fresh.

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Supper
926 South Street, Philadelphia, PA 19147 (Google Map)

In Mandarin, “xie xie” (pronounced shay-shay) translates to thank you. That’s exactly what we found ourselves saying after indulging in sandwiches at Chef Angelo Sosa’s new shop. The chef who has most notably developed the menus at Morimoto and Buddakan for the Starr Restaurant Organization, and also worked for Jean-Georges, opened Xie Xie to combine his love of sandwiches and Asian flavors.

The decor of the tiny space feels like something Tadao Ando would conjure if he were hired to work on a cartoon-themed bubble tea shop. Purple painted walls, white retro fixtures, and stylized bento boxes make it clear that you’re in for something more than the average banh mi. The menu adorns a large board hanging over the tiny counter space where sandwiches are assembled in front of your eyes as you wait. Beverages are displayed in a brightly lit refrigerator and include a wild selection ranging from individual wine boxes and sake bottles to New York local juices from Red Jacket Orchard and Fire Island beers.

The most ordered sandwich is the Vietnamese BBQ Beef, a succulent short rib that is braised in lemongrass, chili and ginger. Served on a plump, soft, sesame seed brioche roll, smeared with basil mayo and topped with carrot kimchee, a medley of flavors are incorporated from several regions. The meat is so tender it falls apart, a hint of sweetness is noted from the sugar glaze used during cooking, which is balanced by the heat of the kimchee.

The Fish Cha Ca La Vong is named after a famous age old restaurant in Hanoi. Sosa explains that the only dish served there is a whole fish brilliantly grilled over charcoal. When finished, the fish is slammed down on the table where nothing but a mixture of dill and other spices is added, splattering around, usually ending up all over the diners, who see it as an honor. At Xie Xie, you don’t have to worry about your shirt getting dirty, but the flavors in the Cha Ca sandwich are impressive as the Hanoian meal sounds. Grilled tilapia is smothered in a sweet onion jam, a handful of dill and served on a perfectly crusty baguette with Sriracha mayonnaise.

Although the sandwiches are filling, especially surprising because of their reasonable price for New York City, we urge you to splurge for dessert. The 1,000 Year-Old ice cream sandwich, is one of the finest we’ve tasted in a long time. Two wafer-thin chocolate cookies encompass a tart vanilla ice cream. Inside your treasures await: a gooey black caramel center so piquant, it will force a smile on any face.

In Manhattan, where Asian sandwich shops seem to be popping up on every corner, Chef Angelo Sosa’s Xie Xie is a welcome breath of fresh air. Although we only tasted two of the five sandwiches on the menu, we’ve heard great things about the Asian Lobster Roll, Sweet Glazed Pork buns, and Shredded Braised Chicken. The imaginative flavors and reasonable prices will most definitely bring us back to Xie Xie again.

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Xie Xie
645A 9th Avenue New York, NY 10036 (Google Map)

What We’re Eating takes a quick look at sandwiches the Unbreaded team can’t get enough of.

Many of the city’s Vietnamese sandwiches are served on Philadelphia hoagie rolls, not the traditional French baguette.  But at Ba Le Bakery on Washington Avenue, the large Eiffel Tower on their sign indicates that French bread is on the menu.  In total, a dozen varieties of banh mi are available.

The crusty house-made baguette is smeared with a sweet mayo and tiny bits of pineapple.  Then topped with dense and firm tofu, fried potato sticks, strips of pickled daikon and carrots, sliced jalapeno and a few sprigs of cilantro, the veggie banh mi is a sweet, spicy, tangy and fresh way to spend  $3.50 on a satisfying sandwich.

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Ba Le Bakery
606 Washington Ave, Philadelphia, PA 19147 (Google Maps)

A rundown of America’s greatest sandwiches reminds us that we read Playboy for the articles, of course.  Their A-List identifies some of this country’s most iconic sandwiches, including the lobster roll, the pastrami sandwich, the cheesesteak, the Cuban, the banh mi and the Italian beef.  And while the debate can begin as to which shop actually makes the best version of these legendary sandwiches, we at Unbreaded just appreciate the discourse.

For some serious sandwich porn, check out the complete list at Playboy.com.

Southern BBQ, outside of Savannah
Despite the talk about urban multiculturalism, the most complex culinary unions in this country were in the rural south, where Afro-Caribbean slaves and European landowners entwined their open-fire cooking techniques and native ingredients into “plantation”-style cooking.  There is probably no better example of this hybrid than the all-day affair of barbecue, arguably America’s most distinctively regional food.

There are about a zillion places to get barbecue in the south and probably just as many opinions about where and why. I relied on the advice of Steven Raichlen (grilling expert and author of many books, including BBQ USA which features a 500 year national timeline and was also a great help to me about Memphis barbecue for another Travel + Leisure story) who told me that as cultish as barbecue has become, it was also the country’s most democratic form of cooking: slaves may have cooked it, but landowners staged it, and if you look at history you will see great pit masters from diverse backgrounds.

(NOTE: It has been several years since I was here.)
At the Pink Pig (also Raichlen’s suggestion), barbecue continues its everyman reputation except this time every “man” is Rita Thomas, the coifed and cultured pit master. A former nurse who inherited the restaurant from her brother, Thomas believes in running a family business—Mom behind the register, son over the cutting board: “My Daddy always had a smoke going.”

Out back, she opened the door of the pit, letting me get a whiff of spice-rubbed Boston Butt roasts (actually the upper portion of the pork whole shoulder), smoking over a combination of oak and hickory. The result was a sandwich of hand-chopped meat with silky interior and crispy edges on a delicate, almost sweet dinner roll, accompanied by a trio of sauces:  Original Honey Mustard, Low Country Fire, and a spicy vinegar and mustard combination, Gullah Spice (rooted in the distinctive community of heritage rich and reclusive West African-Americans who live on the semi-tropical sea islands of South Carolina and Georgia).

Later that night, when I pulled my tee shirt over my head, I smelled that smoke pit all over again. Not in that reeking “morning after” way. But a fragrant mist with the power to conjure up memories, like a fine perfume.

Cubano, Miami
With a similar back story to other port sandwiches, the Cubano was reportedly designed to feed workers—in this case, Cuban cigar factory workers transported to southern Florida (particularly in Key West and Tampa) in the late 1800’s. However, it was the late 1980’s before I had my first Cubano, just about the time Chef Norman Van Aiken was shaking things up with something he called “New World Cuisine” (although it seems commonplace now, there was an exciting newness to his combination of local Latin and Caribbean flavors with traditional European techniques) and drawing young chefs from all over the country. The hours were long, the nights late, and the sandwich, the Cubano.

Miami is a nocturnal city—especially in the stretch known as “Little Havana,” where the Cubano is a vital part of the late night landscape.  In the same fashion as other iconic regional sandwiches, a Cubano starts with the bread: an 8-inch roll typically made with lard, which accounts for its lightness. (Many places make a smaller version on sweeter bread called media noche or “midnight” sandwich.) There’s typically a slathering of butter under the sugar-cured Bolo ham and Swiss cheese. But the real flavor is delivered by slow-roasted marinated pork (lechon asado), always cut by hand. That tiny dagger of tanginess needed to pierce the richness of the fillings is supplied by thinly-sliced pickle and its juices. After spending time in a plancha (or press) to toast the bread and warm the ingredients in their own steam (flattening the sandwich by about 1/3), the Cubano is cut the diagonal to deliver the most possible melted cheese in ratio to the bread.

The next two locations don’t qualify as “ports.” But I include them in my map trace because each represents a “soft” boundary, where cultures drift into each other and instinctively intertwine. And although hamburgers and tacos aren’t technically considered to be “sandwiches,” each falls in line with the notion that multiculturism finds its natural home within some sort of bread.

Green Chile Cheeseburger, New Mexico
Although they are practically non-existent in the rest of the country, you can get a green chile cheeseburger just about anywhere in New Mexico. Now a green chile cheeseburger is not some gimmick, like when a French chef stuffs a burger with foie gras and viola, a hundred dollar lunch. Ever since Sixteenth Century Spanish Conquistadors led settlers along the El Camino Real (the first European road in North America, stretching from Mexico City to Santa Fe), this land has been part of the Mexican frontier, and on it they grow more green chiles (the state’s top cash crop) than anywhere else in the country. The standard bearer is the fleshy Hatch green chile, available fresh in season or fire roasted, peeled and fresh-frozen in their own juices.

As to the actual burger, without becoming all Proustian about it, here’s how I got mine. I was sitting in the Tasty Freeze in Tularosa, New Mexico, eating fried green chiles out of a white paper bag, when the woman behind the counter—who introduced herself as Debbie—said since I liked them so much, maybe I should try her sister Linda’s green chile cheeseburger. Two hours later, I was sitting at the counter of the Airport Grill in the Alamogordo Airport (located near the Air Tanker Base of the Lincoln Zone Dispatch Center for wildfire control) doing just that: enjoying Linda’s tender, oversized burger topped with a few spoonfuls of diced fire-roasted green chiles secured by a dome of smoothly melted white American cheese, set upon on a 5-inch diameter bun.

Fish Taco, San Diego
The fish taco is a link to the lobster roll (Maine) and fried clam sandwich (Connecticut), probably created when some hungry guy wrapped the catch-of- the-day in bread as a way to produce a heartier meal. It’s nearly impossible to pinpoint the exact day any regional sandwich makes its first appearance. But Ralph Rubio (founder of Rubio’s Fresh Mexican Grill) has a fairly good idea about the modern fish taco, tracing the convergence of cultures—Californian, Mexican and surf—in his own life to 1973.

Rubio was on one of his annual San Diego State University Spring Break surfing trips to the Baja Peninsula. He remembers the beach-shack fish tacos he got there for 50 cents as “crave-able,” a feeling he says he didn’t get from other foods. In 1983, Rubio opened his first walk-up stand in a converted Orange Julius on Mission Drive in San Diego and caught the wave. When I spoke with him for the Travel + Leisure story in 2004, he was twenty-one years into his venture, with 150 regional stores and over 50 million fish tacos sold. Here’s how Rubio built his business from the ground up.

- six-inch corn tortilla (heated on the grill)
- beer-batter fried fish (Rubio’s uses Alaskan Pollock—a mild white fish—and gets an extra crispy crust)
- crema blanca (light mayonnaise with a touch of yogurt for smoothness and tang)
- blended salsa (basically the same ingredients as salsa fresca, but smooth—not chopped)
- shredded cabbage (provides the crunch and won’t wilt like lettuce)
- squeeze of fresh lime juice

Banh Mi, San Francisco
Working up the coast to Saigon Sandwiches in San Francisco, you’ll find the banh mi, an interesting example of a double immigration sandwich.

The baguette-style roll (lightened with rice flour) emerged during the French colonization of Vietnam. But the Vietnamese who migrated to the United States following the Saigon evacuation in 1975 brought the sandwich to us. Banh mi means bread (you must specify the filling) and those who short hand this relatively new sandwich as a “South East Asian hoagie” undervalue the distinctive flavorings, like sweet red pork barbecued pork sprinkled with slivers of lightly pickled cucumber and carrot seasoned with jalapenos and cilantro.

The increasing popularity of banh mi parallels Vietnamese immigration: Hawaii, the West Coast, and eventually working its way across the country to gain a foothold in the East. But the sandwich is still far from main stream. The best banh mi remain in their own ethnic neighborhoods, usually in small storefronts. Years ago, I got my first taste at Saigon Sandwiches where two surprises awaited. The good one: (at the time) the bahn mi was less than three bucks. The other: The counter women took orders from every person in line and made all the sandwiches at one time.

Italian Beef and the Borinquen Restaurant, both in Chicago
Moving east to Chicago, you come across another sandwich which is distantly related to Philadelphia’s hoagie (and thus, the Muffaletta): the Italian Beef. Unlike the hoagie’s layering of cured pork meats and cheese, the Italian Beef is the bountiful product of the city’s Union Stockyards—beef so thinly sliced it resembles a meat mille feuilles—topped by another sort of “salad,” called Giardinera. I got mine from Al’s # 1 Italian Beef at its landmark Taylor Street location.

The lineage of the Italian beef sandwich is impeccable.  Anthony Ferreri, a turn-of-the-century sandwich peddler who sold his wares from vendor trays (like those used in baseball stadiums) and also catered “peanut weddings” (for Italian immigrants who couldn’t afford more) begat Al and Frances Ferreri who opened a small curbside Beef stand in 1938 (with Frances’ husband Chris Pacelli) that eventually moved to Taylor Street and became Al’s # 1 Italian Beef, (at the time I went) still run by Frances’ sons—the Pacaelli brothers.

So are the ingredients.

- Top sirloin butt: oven roasted in water with garlic and “secret” seasonings to make the flavorful “juice” in which the sandwiches are dipped.
- Giardinera: a fermented vegetable relish made with hot peppers and celery so finely shaved that the mixture simply melts away when it hits the hot beef, soaking its flavor all the way through the sandwich
- Gonnella Bread: baked under the direction of the same family since 1886; crisp-crusted and substantial enough to stand up to dipping

There are no seats at Al’s—but then you can’t really eat this sandwich sitting down. Instead, unwrap your sandwich and spread the paper out on the counter in front of you. Lean the top half of your body forward (over the counter) while tilting the bottom half away (as though you are hugging someone and want your shoulders but not your hips to touch) so the juices drip down onto the paper (missing your clothes and shoes). When you’re done, wrap the paper up and throw your mess away.

Jibarito
Just when I thought I had picked the city of Chicago clean, a chef named Randy Zweiben took me to eat a sandwich I had never seen before or since.

According to the 2000 Census, Chicago is now one of the top three centers of Puerto Rican population in this country, and as immigration patterns changed, the city sprouted a new sandwich—the Jibarito (hee-bah-REE-toh)—found in the tightly knit Puerto Rican community of Humboldt Park.

Drive along Paseo Boricua, a mile long stretch of the Division Street corridor anchored by 59 foot, 40 ton steel sculptures of the Puerto Rican flag, and you’ll pass several places advertising “La Casa Del Jibarito.” But it is Borinquen Restaurant owner Juan C. Figueroa (known as Peter) who can take credit for the success of the sandwich and vice versa, since he chalks up his recent expansion to spiraling Jibarito sales. Zweiben, who worked in Miami during that Nuevo Latino wave and knows his way around a Cubano, explained exactly how this sandwich was made.

The innovative “bread” is made from twice fried green plantains (sliced and pressed into a rough rectangular shape and brushed with garlic and oil) while the fillings rely on traditional cooking methods. (For example, the pork is slow cooked, similar to Cuban style; the chicken is fried, then pulled from the bones and chopped, skin and all.)

The Jibarito is an unusual reversal of the typical sandwich texture: creamy (via the “plantain” bread) on the outside and chewy on the inside. It is also an odd blend of old and new—the Latin heritage diluted by a layering of pedestrian American sandwich ingredients (iceberg lettuce, unripe tomatoes, American cheese, mayonnaise). Judging from the crowded tables, the sandwich is extremely popular; it is also extremely regionalized. But maybe not for long—because that’s how immigrant culture spreads in this country, sandwich by sandwich.

Ask any vegetarian or vegan living in Philadelphia for their favorite sandwich, and its a good bet that the answer will be the tofu hoagie from Fu-Wah Mini Market. Opened in 2003 by the Lai family, the same people behind the wildly popular and delicious Vietnam Restaurant, the small store has quickly become a West Philadelphia institution, selling a variety of groceries and Asian items. But it is the tofu hoagie that causes a small crowd of customers to hover around the register, and during nice weather on the sidewalk outside.

Based on the banh mi, a sandwich created during the French colonization of Vietnam, the tofu hoagie stuffs the same basic fillings (sans pork) into a fresh Amoroso’s roll rather than the traditional baguette. Warm, marinated tofu is topped with shreds of pickled carrot and daikon, cilantro and sliced jalapeño peppers, a sweet combination that finishes with a surprisingly spicy kick. A Vietnamese Chicken hoagie is also offered for the carnivores, but the chunks of dark meat chicken were incomparable to the light and fluffy taste of the tofu. It is interesting to note that customers who are normally wary of the taste of the soy-based product, have grown fond of the way it is prepared in Fu-Wah’s sandwich.

Although tofu hoagie veterans know the best way to obtain one without the wait is to call ahead, we found that watching the sandwich artist line up ten rolls on the counter and delicately prepare them one at a time was well worth it. Some find the 47th and Baltimore location to be a hike from Center City and beyond, but if you’re in West Philadelphia, we recommend giving the tofu hoagie a try.

Fu-Wah Mini Market
810 S 47th Street Philadelphia, PA 19143 (Google Map)