Done With Subway: 5 Tennessee Sandwich Chains That Miss The Mark And 5 That Truly Deliver
When it comes to grabbing a sandwich in Tennessee, Subway isn’t the only game in town.
I’ve spent years munching my way through the Volunteer State’s sandwich scene, searching for the perfect combo of bread, meat, and toppings.
Some local chains have left me disappointed and hungry, while others have me coming back for seconds (and thirds).
Here’s my honest take on which Tennessee sandwich spots are worth your hard-earned cash and which should be skipped altogether.
1. Shoney’s Sandwiches Fall Flat
Remember when Shoney’s was the go-to spot after Sunday church? I visited their Nashville location last month, expecting the sandwiches to match my childhood memories. Boy, was I wrong!
The bread arrived stale and the meat portions resembled playing cards rather than hearty slices. Their signature club sandwich featured wilted lettuce and mayo so sparse I needed a magnifying glass to find it.
The staff seemed as uninspired as the food, barely glancing up when taking my order. For a place charging $10+ per sandwich, I expected something that didn’t taste like it came from a vending machine. Save your appetite and your wallet for somewhere that actually cares about sandwiches.
2. Hardee’s Hot Chicken Sandwich Confusion
Hardee’s attempt to jump on the Nashville hot chicken sandwich trend makes me question if they’ve ever actually tasted authentic Tennessee hot chicken. Last week’s drive-thru disaster left my taste buds betrayed and confused.
Their so-called “Tennessee Hot” sandwich featured a suspiciously uniform chicken patty with heat that came from pure capsaicin rather than balanced spices. The pickle chips were the only saving grace, providing momentary relief from the artificial flavor assault.
What puzzles me most is how a chain with Tennessee roots can miss the mark so dramatically on a regional specialty. The sandwich lacks the complexity, the layered heat, and the soul that makes real Nashville hot chicken special. Just because you add red food coloring doesn’t make it authentic!
3. Jason’s Deli’s Mediocre Muffulettas
Jason’s Deli talks a big sandwich game, but my recent visit to their Knoxville location left me wondering if they’ve forgotten what good bread tastes like. Their muffuletta, supposedly a signature item, arrived looking like it had been assembled by someone who’d only seen pictures of sandwiches but never actually eaten one.
The olive spread—the heart and soul of any respectable muffuletta—was applied so sparingly I had to hunt for it between layers of rubbery cheese and forgettable meats. The bread crumbled faster than my hopes for a satisfying lunch.
For a chain that prides itself on fresh ingredients, everything tasted like it had been prepped days ago and left to mingle with refrigerator odors. My wallet still feels violated paying premium prices for what amounted to upscale cafeteria food.
4. Lenny’s Grill & Subs: All Size, No Substance
Lenny’s loves advertising their “bigger is better” philosophy, but my massive Philly cheesesteak from their Memphis location proved that quantity rarely equals quality. The sandwich stretched an impressive length, yet somehow managed to be both dry and soggy simultaneously—a culinary paradox I’m still trying to understand.
The meat, sliced paper-thin and cooked until gray, lacked any discernible beef flavor. Their cheese sauce (which no self-respecting Philadelphian would recognize) congealed into a plasticky layer before I’d even left the parking lot.
What truly irked me wasn’t just the bland taste but the smug “7.5 inches of greatness” slogan plastered everywhere. I’d gladly trade those extra inches for actual flavor, proper seasoning, or bread that doesn’t disintegrate halfway through the meal. Size truly doesn’t matter when everything else misses the mark.
5. Pal’s Sudden Service: Suddenly Underwhelming
The iconic blue building with giant burger props had me excited for my first Pal’s experience in Johnson City. The drive-thru efficiency was impressive—my order appeared almost magically within minutes—but speed doesn’t compensate for the sandwich letdown that followed.
Their famous “Big Pal” arrived flatter than my first apartment, with a patty so thin it was practically transparent. The bun-to-meat ratio felt like eating a bread sandwich with a meat garnish. Their special sauce tasted suspiciously like the same mayo-ketchup blend that every fast food joint claims as “secret.”
East Tennesseans defend Pal’s with cult-like devotion, which makes me wonder if I’m missing something. Maybe it’s the nostalgia factor? Because the actual sandwich experience was about as memorable as beige wallpaper and half as flavorful. Sorry, Pal, but this relationship isn’t working out.
6. Tennessee Jed’s: Sandwich Artistry In Action
Stumbling into Tennessee Jed’s tiny Chattanooga shop changed my sandwich standards forever. The moment I bit into their “Smoky Mountain” creation, I realized I’d been settling for sandwich mediocrity my entire life.
House-smoked brisket, sliced thin but piled gloriously high, shares space with pimento cheese that’s actually made in-house (not scooped from a plastic tub). The sourdough bread—baked fresh that morning—offers the perfect chewy resistance before yielding to the flavorful fillings.
Owner Jed himself often works the counter, recommending combinations with the enthusiasm of someone who truly believes sandwiches can change lives. His prices might be a dollar or two higher than chains, but the difference is like comparing a handcrafted instrument to a plastic toy. One visit and you’ll understand why locals form lines out the door daily.
7. Wicked Good Sandwiches Lives Up To Its Name
Hidden in a Johnson City strip mall, Wicked Good Sandwiches doesn’t waste energy on fancy decor—they pour it all into creating sandwich perfection instead. My first bite of their “Tennessee Tango” triggered an involuntary happy dance that amused fellow diners.
Thick-cut turkey (roasted on-site daily) mingles with apple-jalapeño slaw that delivers a sweet-spicy punch without overwhelming the meat’s subtle flavor. Their signature “wicked sauce” adds tangy complexity that chain restaurants try—and fail—to replicate with their mass-produced condiments.
The owners, transplants from Boston, brought their New England sandwich sensibilities but embraced Tennessee flavors with respectful enthusiasm. The resulting hybrid creates something uniquely delicious that neither region could claim alone. Each sandwich comes wrapped in butcher paper with your name scrawled in Sharpie—a personal touch that perfectly matches the care evident in every bite.
8. Mitchell Deli: Nashville’s Sandwich Sanctuary
Last summer, after a friend’s endless raving, I finally visited Mitchell Deli in East Nashville. Their “Asian Flank Steak” sandwich has haunted my dreams ever since—in the best possible way.
Marinated flank steak, cooked to perfect pink-centered tenderness, gets layered with crunchy pickled vegetables and cilantro on a crusty baguette that somehow remains soft inside. The ginger-soy glaze provides umami depth that makes each bite more complex than the last.
The shop itself feels like a neighborhood living room where tattooed hipsters and buttoned-up professionals bond over their shared love of extraordinary food. Though I’ve tried recreating their masterpiece at home multiple times, something magical happens within Mitchell’s walls that I can’t duplicate. Their sandwiches aren’t just meals—they’re edible art that somehow justifies the 40-minute wait during lunch rush.
9. East Side Banh Mi: Fusion Perfection
Whoever decided to blend Vietnamese sandwich traditions with Southern flavors deserves a culinary Nobel Prize. East Side Banh Mi in Memphis executes this fusion flawlessly, creating sandwiches that respect both cultures while creating something entirely new.
Their “Memphis Meets Saigon” combines slow-cooked pulled pork with traditional banh mi pickled carrots, daikon, and cilantro. The marriage of barbecue sauce and sriracha mayo shouldn’t work—but lord have mercy, it absolutely sings on the taste buds!
The French baguettes achieve that elusive perfect texture: shatteringly crisp outside with cloud-like interior that soaks up sauces without disintegrating. Family-owned and fiercely independent, they’ve turned down expansion offers to maintain quality control. After tasting their creations, I understand why—some food experiences are too perfect to risk diluting through growth.
10. Bill’s Sandwich Palace: Knoxville’s Local Favorite
Calling Bill’s a “palace” might seem like overstatement given its humble strip mall location in Knoxville, until you taste what emerges from behind the counter. My life-changing encounter happened with their “Smoky Blue” sandwich—a revelation that made me question why I’d wasted years on chain sandwiches.
House-smoked turkey pairs with Tennessee blue cheese and homemade blackberry jam in a combination that sounds bizarre but tastes like it was ordained by sandwich deities. The sourdough bread—delivered fresh each morning from a local bakery—gets buttered and grilled to golden perfection.
Owner Bill Jameson, a former fine dining chef who got tired of “fussy food,” applies gourmet techniques to humble ingredients. His philosophy that “everyone deserves amazing food without pretension” shines through in every carefully constructed layer. No wonder locals zealously protect this spot from tourist crowds—some treasures are too precious to share widely.