10 Missouri Sandwiches Once Beloved, Now Fading From Menus

Remember when certain sandwiches were as much a part of Missouri culture as the Gateway Arch itself? Growing up in the Show-Me State, these legendary handhelds weren’t just quick lunches—they were rites of passage, community traditions, and sometimes even daring challenges among friends.

Each bite carried with it a sense of place, a connection to small-town diners and bustling city delis that knew how to turn simple ingredients into lasting memories.

But as restaurants modernize their menus and tastes continue to shift, these iconic Missouri sandwiches have grown harder to find, surviving mostly in the fond recollections of longtime locals.

1. McDonald’s McDLT

My first teenage paycheck went straight toward buying McDLTs for all my friends. The genius of this burger-style sandwich wasn’t just in the taste – it was the revolutionary packaging that kept “the hot side hot, and the cool side cool” until the moment you assembled it yourself.

The specially designed styrofoam container separated the warm beef patty from the chilled lettuce and tomato, creating a temperature contrast that made each bite extraordinary.

Discontinued in 1990 when environmentalists rightfully challenged the packaging, the McDLT represents an era when fast food still felt like an adventure. No modern McDonald’s creation has captured that same magic of participation and perfect temperature control.

2. Burger King Yumbo (Hot Ham & Cheese)

Shopping mall food courts across Missouri once buzzed with teenagers clutching these warm, satisfying ham and cheese delights. The Yumbo wasn’t complicated – just hot ham and melted American cheese on a sesame seed bun – but its simplicity was its strength.

After vanishing for decades, Burger King briefly resurrected the Yumbo in 2014 as part of a nostalgic promotion.

The comeback fell flat. Something was different; the magic had faded along with the 1970s wood-paneled Burger King interiors where we’d first fallen in love with it. Today, I still catch myself scanning fast food menus for this comfort food classic, hoping it might reappear in its true form.

3. Hardee’s Roast Beef Sandwich

Before Arby’s claimed the roast beef crown, Hardee’s roast beef sandwich reigned supreme across Missouri’s highways and small towns. Unlike today’s overstuffed creations, this masterpiece featured thinly sliced, perfectly seasoned beef piled just high enough on a soft, seeded bun.

Sunday drives with my grandparents inevitably included a stop for these sandwiches. The secret was in the meat’s edges – slightly crispy while the center remained tender and juicy. A touch of their tangy sauce completed the experience.

When corporate menu consolidations swept through in the late 1980s, this beloved sandwich disappeared from Missouri Hardee’s locations, leaving a beef-shaped hole in our hearts that fancy artisanal creations have never quite filled.

4. Wendy’s Superbar Sub

College students in Columbia practically lived on these build-your-own masterpieces during the 1980s and early 90s. The Superbar – Wendy’s ambitious buffet concept – featured a DIY sandwich station where hungry customers could craft unlimited submarine sandwiches for one fixed price.

Loading soft sub rolls with pasta, various meats, cheeses, and fresh vegetables became an art form. My roommates and I would compete to see who could build the most impressive tower without it collapsing before reaching our table.

When Wendy’s discontinued the Superbar in 1998, citing operational complexities, Missouri lost more than just a sandwich option – we lost an affordable feast that had fueled countless study sessions and late-night philosophical discussions.

5. St. Paul Sandwich

First time I encountered this St. Louis Chinese-American invention, I thought someone was playing a prank. An egg foo young patty tucked between slices of white bread with mayo, crisp lettuce, pickles, and tomato? It seemed absurd until that first magnificent bite.

Created allegedly by a Chinese chef wanting to appeal to Midwestern palates, this fusion marvel once appeared in virtually every Chinese takeout across eastern Missouri. The contrast between the savory egg patty and the cool, crisp vegetables created a texture symphony unlike anything else.

Now endangered, the St. Paul survives in just a handful of old-school St. Louis establishments, its legacy fading as newer Asian fusion concepts replace traditional Chinese-American restaurants.

6. Gerber Sandwich

Born in 1973 at Ruma’s Deli in St. Louis, the Gerber sandwich represents Missouri creativity at its finest. I’ll never forget my uncle’s expression when he first introduced me to this open-faced marvel: garlic butter slathered on French bread, topped with ham, melty Provel cheese, and a sprinkle of paprika.

The combination of the locally beloved Provel – that gooey, processed cheese blend unique to St. Louis – with the sweet ham and garlic created a flavor profile that defined south St. Louis gatherings.

Baked until bubbly and golden, it was impossible to eat without making appreciative noises. While still available at its birthplace, the Gerber has vanished from many menus as artisanal ingredients replace these humble St. Louis classics.

7. Fried Brain Sandwich

Grandpa would chuckle at my horrified expression whenever he ordered this once-common Missouri delicacy. Breaded and fried calf or pig brains served on a bun with mustard and pickles – it was the sandwich that separated the culinary adventurers from the timid eaters across the river towns of Missouri.

The abundance of stockyards made offal meats both affordable and common in early 20th century St. Louis cuisine. The texture was described as “creamy scrambled eggs” by those brave enough to try it, though I never mustered the courage myself.

BSE concerns (mad cow disease) in the 1990s virtually eliminated calf brain versions, while changing tastes have made even the pork variations increasingly rare outside a few dedicated old-school establishments.

8. Oyster Club Sandwich

Summer visits to my grandmother in Kansas City always included a special trip downtown for what she called “the gentleman’s sandwich.” The oyster club layered crispy fried oysters with bacon, lettuce, and tomato, finished with zesty horseradish sauce between three slices of toasted bread.

Railway connections once made fresh oysters surprisingly accessible throughout Missouri, and this upscale variation of the club sandwich graced hotel menus and fine dining establishments across the state.

The contrast between the crunchy fried oysters and the fresh vegetables created an unforgettable texture experience. As transportation shifted and oyster prices climbed, this once-celebrated sandwich retreated to specialty seafood restaurants before largely disappearing from Missouri menus by the 1990s.

9. Braunschweiger Sandwich

Packed in countless Missouri lunchboxes throughout the mid-20th century, this distinctive sandwich featured spreadable liver sausage that my father swore was “the only proper lunch meat.” Typically served on rye bread with sliced onions and spicy mustard, Braunschweiger offered a rich, distinctive flavor profile unlike anything in today’s standard deli case.

German immigrants brought this tradition to Missouri, where it thrived in communities like Hermann and throughout the Missouri Rhine country. The sandwich represented frugality and old-world sensibilities – using every part of the animal and celebrating flavors many modern palates find challenging.

Health concerns about processed meats and changing taste preferences have relegated this once-common sandwich to specialty German restaurants and the occasional nostalgic grandmother’s kitchen.

10. Peanut Butter & Mayonnaise Sandwich

My great-grandmother swore by this unlikely combination born from Depression-era necessity. When protein was scarce and budgets tight, Missouri families created this calorie-dense sandwich that paired creamy peanut butter with a thin layer of mayonnaise on white bread, sometimes with additions like banana slices or pickle relish.

While it sounds bizarre to modern ears, the mayo actually enhanced the peanut butter’s richness while cutting its stickiness. During the lean years of the 1930s, this sandwich provided affordable sustenance across rural Missouri counties where meat was often a luxury.

Though it survived in family traditions through the 1960s, this unique creation has largely vanished except as an occasional curiosity or a nostalgic reminder of harder times and ingenious solutions.