10 Under-The-Radar New York Sandwiches Worth The Hunt
New York City is a paradise for sandwich lovers, with hidden treasures tucked into every borough—each one fiercely protected by loyal locals.
While the iconic pastrami palaces and Instagram-famous shops grab most of the attention, there’s a whole world of remarkable sandwiches waiting quietly in corner delis, family-run bodegas, and unassuming storefronts.
These are the kinds of places where recipes are handed down, regulars are greeted by name, and every bite feels like a discovery. After years of exploring the city one sandwich at a time, I’m finally ready to reveal my secret list of unsung bread-and-filling perfection.
1. David’s Brisket House’s Pastrami Perfection
The moment you step into this unassuming Bed-Stuy storefront, you’re hit with a smoky, peppery aroma that makes your stomach growl instantly. I discovered this Muslim-owned Jewish deli gem after getting lost on the A train years ago—a happy accident that changed my sandwich life forever.
Their hand-carved pastrami rivals Manhattan’s tourist-packed delis at half the price. The meat melts on your tongue, perfectly balanced between fatty and lean, with a peppery crust that adds just enough bite.
Ask for it on rye with spicy brown mustard—nothing else needed. The countermen stack it impossibly high without making it pretentious or unwieldy. Pure sandwich magic.
2. Brennan & Carr’s Legendary Dipped Roast Beef
My grandfather first brought me to this 1930s Sheepshead Bay institution when I was ten, and I’ve been dreaming about their beef ever since. The wood-paneled time capsule with bow-tied servers hasn’t changed a bit—thank goodness.
The sandwich itself is deceptively simple: thinly sliced roast beef on a plain round roll. But then comes the magic—they dunk the entire thing in rich, savory beef broth until it’s gloriously soaked. Insider tip: ask for the “dingle-dangle” for extra jus on the side.
Every bite drips down your arms in the most satisfying way possible. Bring napkins. Lots of napkins.
3. Defonte’s Nicky Special Hero
Tucked away in industrial Red Hook since 1922, Defonte’s feels like walking into your Italian grandfather’s basement sandwich laboratory. The menu board is intimidating, but trust me—go straight for the Nicky Special. This monster combines fried eggplant, rare roast beef, fresh mozzarella, and their tangy house dressing on bread that’s somehow both pillowy and crusty. I once drove from Connecticut just for this sandwich and wasn’t disappointed. What makes it special is the balance—the eggplant’s crispy edges, the cool cheese, the perfect meat-to-bread ratio. It’s the sandwich equivalent of a perfectly orchestrated symphony, conducted by sandwich artists who’ve been perfecting their craft for generations.
4. Parisi Bakery’s The Dennis Chicken Cutlet Creation
Walking into Parisi feels like discovering a secret portal to old New York. This family-owned Nolita bakery makes bread so good you’d be happy eating it plain—but don’t, because The Dennis awaits.
I stumbled on this masterpiece during a rainy lunch break years ago and have never looked at chicken cutlet sandwiches the same way. The cutlet is pounded thin, perfectly breaded, and fried to golden perfection.
Then comes the fresh mozzarella, still warm enough to slightly melt, bright tomatoes, and just enough balsamic to cut through the richness. The seeded roll—baked in-house, naturally—provides the perfect chew-to-crunch ratio. Pure sandwich architecture.
5. Regina’s Grocery’s Uncle Jimmy Italian Masterpiece
Regina’s feels like the cool downtown apartment of your most Italian friend—if that apartment happened to make incredible sandwiches. The tiny LES shop is plastered with family photos and old-country memorabilia that tell you they take their Italian heritage seriously.
The Uncle Jimmy combines sopressata, hot coppa, fresh mozzarella, and hot pepper spread that’ll make your taste buds dance. What separates this from tourist-trap Italian heroes? The balance and quality of ingredients.
Regina herself might be behind the counter, telling stories about the sandwich’s namesake relatives. Each bite delivers a perfect ratio of meat, cheese, bread, and that crucial vinegar tang. I’ve brought out-of-town friends here who’ve actually changed their flight plans to come back for seconds.
6. Pisillo Italian Panini’s Prosciutto Paradise
I found Pisillo by accident while dodging rain in the Financial District and now regularly trek across town just for their panini. The tiny shop is easy to miss but impossible to forget once you’ve tasted their authentic Italian creations. Their namesake Pisillo panini combines imported prosciutto di parma, fresh mozzarella, arugula, and extra virgin olive oil on crusty house bread that’s unlike anything else in the city. What makes it special is restraint—just a few perfect ingredients, no unnecessary condiments. The Italian owners are often behind the counter, slicing meats paper-thin with the precision of surgeons. One bite transports you straight to a Roman piazza, no passport required. Worth every penny of the $14 price tag.
7. Sal, Kris & Charlie’s Legendary Bomb
“The Bomb” at this Astoria institution lives up to its explosive name. The first time I ordered it, the sandwich maker actually laughed at me when I said I’d eat it alone. Challenge accepted—and regretted about halfway through. This monster combines every Italian meat and cheese in the case: ham, salami, pepperoni, mortadella, American, provolone, and more, topped with lettuce, tomatoes, onions, and pickled peppers. The magic is in the balance—somehow nothing gets lost in the flavor orchestra. The line often stretches out the door on weekends, filled with locals grabbing provisions before heading to Astoria Park. At under $10, it might be the best value in the five boroughs. Bring a friend—and your appetite.
8. Mike’s Deli’s Eggplant Parm Revelation
The real Little Italy isn’t in Manhattan—it’s on Arthur Avenue in the Bronx. And Mike’s Deli, tucked inside the Arthur Avenue Retail Market, serves eggplant parm heroes that make me question everything I thought I knew about this classic. Unlike soggy versions elsewhere, their eggplant remains somehow crisp while swimming in the perfect amount of tangy tomato sauce and melted cheese. I watched in awe as the counterman built my sandwich with the confidence of someone who’s made thousands. The bread has that perfect crackly crust and pillowy interior that only comes from serious Italian bakeries. Skip the tourist traps downtown and make the pilgrimage north. The sandwich alone justifies the subway fare, but you’ll want to explore the whole market afterward.
9. Spiedie & Rib Pit’s Upstate Chicken Cubes of Joy
I discovered spiedies during a wrong turn on a road trip upstate, and I’ve been making “accidental” detours to Binghamton ever since. These marinated meat cubes on bread are virtually unknown in NYC, despite being just a few hours north. The chicken spiedie sub features juicy, char-broiled cubes that have soaked in a tangy marinade for days before hitting the grill. They’re served simply on a soft Italian roll—no cheese, no veggies, just meat and bread in perfect harmony. The marinade is the secret weapon—herby, garlicky, with a vinegar punch that makes each bite more addictive than the last. Worth the drive, or worth begging any upstate friends to bring you one next time they visit the city.
10. Schwabl’s Beef on Weck Buffalo Tradition
Buffalo wings get all the glory, but the city’s true culinary masterpiece is beef on weck. Schwabl’s, just outside the city in West Seneca, serves the definitive version that’s worth the quick drive from downtown Buffalo.
The sandwich looks deceptively simple: rare roast beef on a kummelweck roll—a kaiser topped with coarse salt and caraway seeds. A side of horseradish lets you customize the heat level. I nearly drove off the road the first time I tried it, it was that good.
The beef is hand-carved to order by bow-tied carvers behind an ancient wooden counter. The roll’s salt-caraway crust creates the perfect flavor foundation, while the soft interior soaks up the meat juices. It’s Buffalo’s best-kept secret—until now.