Stadium Rat's 10 Best Sandwiches of All Time

1. Muffuletta

The muffuletta is a monument. A behemoth of flavor, built like a Roman temple out of sesame-crusted bread, thick-cut mortadella, salami, ham, provolone, and that wild, briny olive salad that tastes like a Sicilian garden threw a parade. This isn’t a sandwich you eat quickly. You worship it. Room temperature, ideally. The way the oil seeps into the bread, the way each bite is a tangle of meat, tang, chew, and salt—it’s a thunderstorm of flavor in a single, glorious round. The muffuletta doesn’t play small. And neither does my love for it.

2. Fried Soft-Shell Crab Poboy

This is the sandwich that turns heads. It’s decadent, theatrical, and borderline erotic. A full crab, claws and all, fried to golden crispness, nestled in a French loaf, its legs spilling out the sides like it’s lounging in velvet. The meat is sweet, the shell crackles under tooth, and when dressed properly—with shredded lettuce, tomato, pickles, and a smear of Creole mayo or remoulade—it becomes a love song to the Gulf. I don’t eat this sandwich. I court it. Reverently.

3. Roast Beef Poboy

This is my soul food. My stormy-day, messy-shirt, gravy-on-my-elbows devotion. The roast beef poboy, when done right, is a wet, dripping miracle. The bread gives just enough resistance before yielding to tender, slow-cooked beef swimming in rich, dark gravy. Add a swipe of horseradish or a slice of provolone, and it's nearly operatic. It’s not fancy. It’s better than fancy—it’s honest. This is the sandwich I think about when I’m far from home.

4. Ham and Cheese Poboy

Underrated? Maybe. But never unloved. This is my comfort classic—the one I could eat with one hand while driving, the one that shows up at parties, road trips, or long afternoons in the park. Thin-sliced ham, cold or warmed, sharp cheddar or Swiss, always nestled in that signature crispy-yet-tender French bread. When I eat this, I taste consistency. History. Joy that doesn’t have to shout.

5. Cuban Sandwich

The Cuban is surgical in its design and divine in execution. Ham, roasted pork, Swiss cheese, pickles, and mustard—pressed into crisp, buttered bread until the cheese melts into the meats and the pickles snap with every bite. There’s a rhythm to the Cuban. A groove. It’s sharp, smoky, tangy, and warm all at once. I admire this sandwich deeply—it’s architecture meets rebellion, all in perfect balance.

6. BLT with Creole Tomatoes in Season

This is a seasonal romance. When the Creole tomatoes arrive—fat, ruby-red, dripping with sun and acid—I clear my calendar. The BLT becomes something transcendent: toasted bread, smoky bacon, crisp lettuce, and those thick, salty-sweet tomato slices that need no help. Maybe a little Duke’s mayo. Maybe a little pepper. But mostly, it’s about letting the tomato sing. I wait all year for this sandwich, and when it’s right, I swear nothing else matters.

7. Meatball Poboy with Parmesan and Provolone

This is the warmest hug I’ve ever eaten. Saucy, melty, messy—a meatball poboy is for the unapologetically hungry. The meatballs should be tender but not falling apart, the tomato sauce rich and spiced just right, and the cheese—a glorious blanket of provolone with a flurry of grated parm—melted into everything like a final blessing. It’s the kind of sandwich you eat with your whole soul. And maybe a napkin tucked in your collar.

8. Fried Shrimp Poboy with Fried Green Tomatoes and Remoulade

This is a masterpiece of textures and Southern sass. Crunchy, golden shrimp. Tangy fried green tomatoes. That luscious, creamy, spicy remoulade that binds it all together. Dressed, of course—shredded lettuce, maybe a little pickle. But really, it’s the contrast that kills: soft and crisp, sweet and tart, hot and cool. This is indulgence with flair. A sandwich with a sense of drama and absolutely no shame.

9. Homemade Sausage, Egg, and Cheese Muffin

This is the sandwich of slow mornings, of cast-iron skillet breakfasts, of sleepy smiles and second cups of coffee. Homemade sausage, perfectly spiced. A yolk-heavy egg, just set. Melted cheese—sharp cheddar, maybe—and a toasted English muffin with a little butter to tie it together. This sandwich feels like love. Like someone woke up early just to make it for you. I crave it with my whole being.

10. Roast Beef Muffuletta with Beef Gravy

You took a muffuletta and made it even filthier. Bless you. Roast beef replaces the traditional cold cuts, and then you drench it in hot, dark beef gravy, all while keeping the olive salad intact. It’s a Frankenstein of flavor, a miracle of excess. Salty, juicy, dripping with umami and vinegar and fat and bliss. I can’t believe it exists. I can’t believe more people don’t weep when they bite into it. I want this sandwich in my will.

Each of these sandwiches is a chapter in the gospel of my appetite. They are more than meals. They’re experiences—made of culture, craving, and that magic moment when you lift it to your mouth and everything else fades away.

I don’t just love these sandwiches. I’m devoted to them. One bite at a time, they’ve become part of who I am.

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ETA: Disclosure: I gave ChatGPT my list and told it to give me the most ridiculous, over-the-top descriptions possible. I could never write this horseshite.