I think I learned my first joke when I was around five from an Archie comic book. It was from one of the short, three-panel sections. Jughead asks Veronica, “Do you know why you can never starve at the beach?” “No,” purrs (in my imagination) Veronica. “Because of the sand which is there.”
I probably laughed for weeks. And I laughed because I come from a sandwich family. My mom was in graduate school for a lot of my childhood, so it was up to my dad to feed us. On Saturday mornings, he’d take me to the local deli to stack up on cheeses and lunch meats. He bought liverwurst, mortadella, Thuringer salami, Genoa salami, baloney, head cheese…the list was endless. Thus equipped, he’d make us Dagwood sandwiches (also from a comic from his childhood called ‘Blondie’) that were a highlight of our rather spotty culinary week.
Thus, I can safely lay claim to being somewhat of a connoisseur when it comes to edibles you stuff between slices of bread. For an article I wrote once about the best Cubano sandwich in Los Angeles, I tried 15 or 16 versions of it all over Los Angeles County. I gained 9 pounds in eight days and only stopped ‘researching’ because I was past my deadline.
Here are a few of my favorites in the Valley.
courtesy BaBaloo Lounge
BaBaloo Lounge
Speaking of Cubanos, the best I’ve come across in the Valley is at Babaloo Lounge in Palm Desert. Babaloo is a reference to a famous Afro-Cubano song, Babalú, made famous by bandleader/actor Desi Arnaz. The Cubano here is slightly elevated, but still luscious and authentic and best accompanied by a mojito or two.
Often overlooked because it’s so easy to get the spins with all that is happening around downtown during high season, is a local’s favorite: The Sandwich Spot. I’m not sure why so many of their sandwiches are named after tennis players…and I’ve often stood in line here trying to find the culinary link between the players and the sandwich’s ingredients. I’m still puzzling over the connection between The Rafa (Rafael Nadal) and roast beef and BBQ sauce. Still, my favorite is The Djokovic. You’d think it would be a vegan sandwich since the Djoker is famous for that dietary path, but it’s quite the opposite: warm turkey, bacon, cheddar cheese, and avocado. Don’t bother puzzling it out, just get it.
courtesy Real Italian Deli
The Real Italian Deli
The Real Italian Deli now has two locations: Palm Springs at Tahquitz and Sunrise and Palm Desert on Portola. My go-to sandwich is the Muffuletta. It comes on fresh focaccia with salami, mortadella, olive tapenade, provolone, and mozzarella. The muffuletta originated in New Orleans and really nothing can duplicate the olive salad and array of meats you find in the Crescent City, but at present this is about as close to a Dagwood as you’re going to find in the Valley (and if there is a Dagwood sandwich in the Valley that I’ve missed, please let me know. Preferably, a half hour before lunchtime).
And if you’re already in Palm Desert, you’d be well-advised to stop at Sherman’s Deli.
Like its brother in Palm Springs, the sandwich board here will transport you to the New York of Carnegie Deli and Katz’s. The #2 with corned beef and tongue and #5 with corned beef, pastrami, and swiss cheese is a hefty slice of heaven.
Not far away is the French Corner. Ok, not the first place that comes to mind when looking for a sandwich, but my 11-year-old (who is extremely picky when it comes to sandwiches) swears that the best tuna salad sandwich she has ever tasted is from this little bistro. I spent years trying to make her the perfect tuna salad sandwich, but now that she has had the Corner Bistro’s version, I’m told that mine in now a distant second. Ouch.
I was a little skeptical of all the fanfare surrounding Capriotti’s in Rancho Mirage. It’s a nationwide chain–and though I know they have a multitude of diehard fans–I tend to steer clear of chains unless they begin with an ‘in’ and end with an ‘out’. I’d heard a lot about ‘The Bobbie’ with slow-roasted turkey, cranberry, sauce, and mayo, so I gave theirs a try. The only reason I can get talked into the tedious task of making Thanksgiving dinner is so that the next day I can build a giant sandwich of the aforementioned ingredients. Now, I can no longer be talked into making Thanksgiving dinner. Thank you, Mr. or Mrs. Capriotti. Or whomever.
No quest for a great sandwich is complete without a visit to TKB Bakery & Deli in Indio. Consistently rated by literally everyone who can taste food as the best sandwich maker in the Valley, it is pretty tough to dissent after you’ve had their Bacon Ranch Fried Chicken sandwich. The perfectly fried chicken, the thick bacon slices, provolone cheese, pickles, and ranch dressing all combine to create something extraordinary inside that brioche. And, yes, the Cubano here is excellent (more of a working man’s Cubano compared to Babaloo’s…which is not a bad thing), but if you want to go hot sandwich, I strongly recommend the Smoked Pulled Pork and Tri-tip steak sandwich. The coleslaw and chipotle sauce filling takes it into the stratosphere.
Lastly, the best sandwich I’ve ever had while a resident of the Valley has only three ingredients. And assembly is required. First, you pay visit to Christoph and Helene Meyer’s fabulous Peninsula Bakery in Palm Springs.
Courtesy: Peninsula Bakery
Peninsula Bakery
Yes, the bakery that for the last decade has shown up in every online, newspaper, and magazine’s Best Of…Palm Springs list. Because of the flour they source from France and the genuine steam oven, they make baguettes that would satisfy the most critical French palate in Pairs, Beaune, or Lyon. I like to buy a half baguette, sometimes the Gruyere or the olive. Ask Helene to add three or four packets of French butter. It is what all butter should aspire to be. Go back to your car and with your Opinel #8 folding knife, slice open the baguette stem to stern and liberally apply butter. All of it. To both sides. Then, open the ½ pound of mortadella or ham that you just had thinly sliced at the deli. Fold the slices and distribute evenly inside the baguette. Bite. Chew. Swallow. Sigh.
