I think about great sandwiches from my past the way some people think about old lovers: fondness, melancholy, yearning and regret all mingle when I remember wax-wrapped sandwiches I'll never see again.
There was my first love: a New Jersey-style sloppy Joe from the Millburn Deli (even after decades, it remains the only thing that might induce me to return to my hometown). Then there was the Italian sub from the White House in Atlantic City: the "bad boy" of sandwiches, it was salty, oily, terrible for you and absolutely irresistible. And then there was the sandwich from a little shop in Hoboken -- a roast-beef sandwich with house-made mozzarella (pronounce "muzz") and "gravy" -- the memory of which can make me weepy. In Alaska, my current flame is the French dip sandwich from F Street Station. Available only on Fridays (get there early -- they sell out), this sandwich is keeping the magic alive by playing hard to get.
In other words, I take my sandwiches seriously. Which is why I was excited to try out Masters Sandwich Shop in South Anchorage. Lots of places make a decent sandwich, but I always appreciate a dining spot that specializes, that can fit their entire menu onto a blackboard. Making a good sandwich is an art form, and I was ready to check out the art.
After a hectic day of holiday shopping, I dropped in to grab dinner (the store is near the Dimond retail sprawl). If you're in the mood to unleash your inner Dagwood, you can order custom sandwiches, but I opted for three of their specialties: the Big Italy, the Caprese and spicy beef. All sandwiches are available toasted but, at the risk of sounding like a sandwich snob, I don't care for this option. In my opinion, some sandwiches should be toasted (Phillies, meatball subs, Reubens and the like), while others should not (anything with lettuce, raw vegetables, creamy sauces or vinaigrettes). I don't want to have to analyze the menu to determine whether I'll be stuck with limp lettuce or liquidy mayonnaise. But that's just me.
Overall, these were excellent sandwiches. However, there were a few disappointments. On this particular day, the kitchen was out of their standard hoagie rolls, so I opted for whole wheat. The bread was not a success. Crumbly and dry, the roll couldn't stand up against the layers of fillings. The other disappointment was in the Caprese sandwich ($12.75). It was pleasant but lacked impact. Slices of mozzarella and pesto (straight, I strongly suspect, from a Costco jar) were layered with roasted Roma tomatoes. I was expecting the roasted tomatoes to add something special to the sandwich, but instead I just ended up missing the freshness and acid of raw tomatoes to cut through the creamy mildness of the cheese. The sandwich was fine but not exciting.
And now for the good news. Whole-wheat roll aside, the Big Italy ($16) was a knockout. A classic behemoth of a sub, it's generously layered with ham, salami, pepperoni, prosciutto and provolone. A zippy vinaigrette with a strong oregano presence, slices of tomato and crispy shredded lettuce all add up to an assertive sandwich with lots of punch. This is a winning sandwich with East Coast attitude.
We also loved the spicy beef ($13) boldly flavored with jalapenos, horseradish and pepper jack cheese. Caramelized onions added a subtle layer of creamy sweetness. And it was all served on pliant sourdough bread. This is the kind of soft bread that makes terrible toast but an excellent sandwich with its high squishability index. Every spicy, creamy, meaty ingredient makes it into each bite.
All sandwiches come with a choice of macaroni or potato salad, coleslaw or chips, and I tried one of each. These are your basic sides -- straightforward, but fresh and well executed. The macaroni salad was my favorite -- a mayonnaise-heavy affair with a nice sprinkling of crispy red peppers and a strong flavor of nostalgia.
The following week I ordered sandwiches to bring to a holiday party. Helpfully, they offered to turn my order into a party platter -- slicing the subs into fourths and arranging them onto trays. I ordered the Big Italy again (because yum) and it was vastly improved by being served on the standard white-bread hoagie roll. There was a little bit of crunch at the crust but it was soft enough inside to eat each bite without giving your jaw an excessive workout.
I also ordered a spicy garden ($12) sandwich which, sadly, I didn't get a chance to taste due to its popularity and my badly timed preoccupation with locating a wine opener. Stuffed with spinach, roasted tomato, red onion, cucumbers and a spicy cream cheese, it received good buzz from the crowd.
I got to personally enjoy the club sandwich ($12.50), which is piled high with turkey, ham, bacon and cheddar. A mild-ish cheddar and a generous hand with the mayonnaise made this sandwich somewhat creamier than I expected, and I would have liked more Dijon to give a bit of bite. But this minor complaint did not prevent me from going back in for seconds.
The unexpected delight of the evening was in the chicken salad sandwich ($14) -- often a dull, mayonnaise-y, uninspired affair. This inspired salad combines tender chicken with a creamy blue cheese dressing and is studded with grapes, celery and toasted pecans. The sweetness of the grapes perfectly balances the strong, slightly funky presence of blue cheese. And the pecans add a welcome earthiness and crunch.
It's OK if you laugh at me for waxing poetic about the sandwiches of yesterday. And I don't mind if you think I need a hobby. A visit to Masters proves that I'm not alone. They get me. And while lovers come and go, a good sandwich will always be there for you.
Masters Sandwich Shop
Hours: 11 a.m.-5 p.m. Monday-Saturday (call in orders starting at 10 a.m.)
Location: 750 W. Dimond Blvd., Suite 109
Contact: 907-644-6278, masterssandwichshop.com
$$
***1/2