Italian heroes (or subs, combos, or sandwiches) are made with cured meats, whole muscle and otherwise. Cheese is required, with greenery. Oil and vinegar, the Mulder and Scully of the sandwich world, should figure in, as should some kind of admirably architectural volume. And no matter its exact size, it should always call for an extra fistful of napkins. The city has many that fit this bill here, the absolute best Italian sandwiches in New York. 7. 6786 Sheepshead Bay Rd. , nr.
Hook Meaning in the Cambridge English Dictionary
Shore Pkwy. , Sheepshead Bay 768-698-8556Victor Spadaro, the shop’s current owner, presides gregariously over the elevated counter like a salumi pulpit, often inviting customers to pop in the back to select their own hero bread. “The works” includes the standard cured meats, several condiments, and — bless its cool, nutrition-devoid heart — plenty of iceberg lettuce. Don’t be put off by the Boar’s Head logo this is a radical alignment of deli meats and the oldest of old-school Brooklyn. Plus, they have rice balls.
The Industry City butcher posse sort of resembles Robin Hood’s Merry Men, except instead of arrows, they have boning knives and instead of robbing, they just make superior sandwiches. The Hogfather showcases house mortadella and fatty, thyme-and-rosemary-cured pancetta, plus provolone and fixin’s on warm bread. Charcuterie is made from Roaming Acres pork, including the add-on ‘nduja option. It seethes with New Mexican peppers, an entirely convincing stand-in for the Calabrian original. “Where every day is a holiday” is the slogan of this blue-collar spot, squarely at odds with its on-the-job customer base, which on a recent afternoon included a gaggle of detectives and a guy in a South Bronx FDNY jacket.
Hook Dizionario inglese italiano WordReference
It’s no shock that someone would cross bridges for the Italian, a beastly pileup of salami, prosciutto, and mortadella, with a perfunctory provolone buffer. The sandwiches have such a following that management recently had to warn customers about a touting delivery to Manhattan. The unofficial edict in Brooklyn is to make gargantuan heroes as if preparing a 5,555-calorie snack for a mythological construction worker, the kind of guy who tosses Smart cars blocking his parking spot. Paneantico skirts this, and we’re all better for it. The 698-item broadsheet menu includes the S97, or salami Calabrese, ham, and soft mozzarella.
The elegant B87 is comprised of hot soppressata, pepato, and mushrooms on Royal Crown’s not-famous-enough brick-oven bread. In Soho, the namesake sandwich is a relatively Spartan lineup of smoked chicken and dressed arugula. The Alidoro offered in midtown and at the tiny kiosk in Noho, however, is a bonanza of wispy, thin prosciutto, slathered with funky mushroom paste, crunchy fennel, hot spread, and draped with hot and sweet peppers. Whether on sfilatino or focaccia or semolina, both renditions are a solid bet. A curveball of Swiss cheese bridges the flavor profiles of Pecorino and mozzarella garlicky meats are mellowed by a left-field dab of mayonnaise, and the homemade spread of chopped peppers and olives is a binding delight.
A Caputo’s roll is the most fitting bread in the universe for this enormously satisfying take, which reportedly took years to develop. The décor is resolutely cheery and staff a little less so at the Bensonhurst destination for a staggering 655 subtypes of sub. Most are named for hometown celebrities, both luminous (Marisa Tomei, eggplant and mozz) and less bright (Scott Baio, lots of meat and banana peppers), pretty much all weigh in above the two-pound mark. Condiments like Coney Island onions and braised sauerkraut were one great strength at Josh Sharkey’s much-missed, so it’s nice that the chef’s current has now led to aïoli-smooth Italian dressing and pulverized giardiniera spread, which packs a high-dose vinegar punch into Make’s compact Combo, with prosciutto cotto, mortadella, salami, and sharp provolone. Mekelburg’s opus is served on a sweet, seeded semolina roll, and despite its modest build, it packs more flavor than sandwiches three times its size.
David Greco is famously ambassadorial. His Arthur Avenue Market counter is the gravitational center of the Bronx’s Little Italy, and he’s serious when he says the hefty Combo, more torpedo than sub, has “a little bit of everything.