Having first expressed my discontent with the New York City sandwich scene back in July, I have since been inclined to continue to lament our City's inability to consistently produce an Italian sandwich that isn't overpriced, or impish, or just downright disgusting.
In a way, I had almost given up on the entire ordeal, accepting the fact that the City simply would not succumb to my innate need for a dynamic combination of meat, cheese, and other Italian goodies on an undoubtedly superior roll. In fact, for all intents and purposes, I had resigned myself to knowing that if I wanted a sandwich of this sort, I'd have to head to my New Jersey homeland to get it.
My longing for a sandwich that embodies culinary greatness by being greater than the sum of its parts, has never waned. Perhaps it this need for synergy that is the bane of my quest for finding greatness in a sandwich in New York. Unfortunately it seems as if the sandwich culture in this town lives at both ends of a spectrum that on one end starts at deplorably inedible, and concludes on the other with the most exquisitely unenjoyable. More clearly, you're either slouched in the corner of a dingy Midtown Subway eating your Friskie's-filled $5 foot-long on your lunch hour, or instead waiting 25 minutes or more on a precious Saturday morning for a $13 designer sandwich at Alidoro that is served with a hearty side of major attitude. The sandwich world is eerily analogous to Capitol Hill, irrationally and inexplicably disgusting on one end to the point of true amazement, and egregiously self-involved and overtly righteous on the other. But where is the happy medium? Where are those moderate sandwiches that understand the need to address the rational importance of quantity while continuing to keep an eye on quality?
Regardless of its inherent flaws, the sandwich-sucking culture here has chosen its favorites and though each appreciable in its own right, neither the haute construction at Alidoro, nor the old world charm at Parisi's, nor the sloppy succulence at the Crosby Connection, succeeds in achieving overall greatness in quality and quantity together. Even Sullivan Street Bakery's Panino, as dream-worthy as it is, remains tragically tiny as far as I'm concerned.
In a city where you can get literally anything and everything, my search for the simple satisfying sandwich produces nothing. Why must we toil amid a world of mediocrity when we live in a city built on a foundation of superiority? When will this end?
The answer is NOW.
Low and behold, my prayers have been answered in the form of Defonte's, Manhattan's savior of all things sandwiched.
Located in the otherwise culinarily challenged Gramercy Park neighborhood, this long-awaited sister outpost to the 87-year old Red Hook landmark location, sits at the corner of 21 street and ever-humming 3rd Avenue. Flanked rather ironically, by a Subway just three doors down, the sandwich spectrum I mentioned above could not be more apparent in this juxtaposition of undisputed brilliance and the appalling incompetence.
This corner shop is long and narrow, with very little seating thanks to a glass-cased counter that runs the entire length of the shop. The ordering process maintains an "every-man-for-himself" feel regardless of how crowded it is, as an army of "sandwichistas" stand at the ready to take your order while the owner big Nicky continually chants, "Who's next!" This is the kind of service I love - friendly, attentive, and reliable - a far cry from the fascist single-file line forming that plagues so many deli's and sandwich depots in the city today.
Already, I knew I was gnawing at the loaf of greatness.
When you are ready to order, the giant wall-mounted blackboard menu behind the counter lists about 23 sandwiches, each uniquely named and given a number that you use to submit your order. Given the menu system and my experiences eating here, it is clear this is not a "build-your-own" format in any way. While usually this would bother me, the sandwich combinations on the menu are so astoundingly astute that it obviates any knee-jerk inclination to add modifiers (aside from adding extra cheese and other assorted accoutrement for a $1.50) In fact, most, if not all of the sandwiches feature no more than 4 ingredients (excluding lettuce, tomato, and onion in some cases). Colorfully endearing names like the "Joey Bishop" and the "Valentino Special" make it that much more difficult to commit to only one, a compelling argument for making recurring visits to this heavenly haven for those hankering for a hero. Roast Pork? Roast Beef? Eggplant Parm? This isn't going to be easy.
For a guy like me, this is the stuff nightmares are made of; so my solution was simple: I would have to make multiple visits. If it were 4 years ago, I would've probably labored through all 4 at once in a painful, stomach-busting act of uncouth disregard for personal hygiene (and impending indigestion), but as a more sage member of the culinary world, I know better than that.
In light of this wisdom, I proceeded to visit Defonte's 4 times over the course of 10 days, each time ordering a different sandwich for maximum enjoyment. Each visit was as memorable and unique as it was delicious, making my effort to fully assess the scope and depth of what these classic Brooklyn-borne sandwiches are all about, somewhat easy for me. The story of my eatinerary, in the order of consumption, was as follows:
Day 1: The Italian Stallion (#3)
As a Defonte's virgin, I thought it best to deflower myself with this traditionally Italian concoction of prosciutto, fresh mozzarella, fried eggplant, and roasted peppers - plus, it may have very well been named after me. My immediate reaction to this behemoth of a sandwich was utter disbelief - the thing was absolutely huge compared to any of the sandwiches I've tackled elsewhere in the city. I was embarrassingly enamored simply by its size, but even more so, by how spot-on delicious this husky hero was. As I would find out to be the case with everything at Defonte's, my maiden sandwich was carefully constructed presenting itself as a neat stacking of prosciutto atop house-made mozzarella atop laser-thin fried eggplant, atop a bed of tart roasted red peppers, cradled effortlessly by what is probably the best sandwich bread I've ever had. The bread, for lack of a better word, is perfect, remaining crispy and sturdy on the outside while simultaneously supple and only slightly absorbent on the inside. The fried eggplant is nothing like what you'd expect, is one of the most remarkable foods I've had in my time here in NYC. Somehow, someway, Defonte's version employs paper-thin slices of eggplant surrounded by a smooth outer crust that makes me wonder if these are battered instead of breaded given their rounded exterior. Either way, the fried eggplant is phenomenal and easily is one of Defonte's most remarkable house-made ingredients (among the many they offer).
In the end the Italian Stallion was not only a wonderful introduction to Defonte's as a general entity, but also a comforting and quite promising indicator that I've finally found a sandwich that respects itself to the fullest, and on all fronts. It's been a long time since I've ooh'ed and ahh'ed when I bit into big sandwich like this - a long time.
Day 2: The Pork Hero (#34)
Coming off my overtly orgasmic experience with the Italian Stallion my first time around, I headed back on Day 2 to extend my love affair with all things Defonte for yet another round. I prepared myself for another toothsome tryst with that bread, and that eggplant. Oh the eggplant. After some quiet deliberation, I went for what I thought to be the most intriguing creation on the menu - the Pork Hero, or as it's known at Defonte's, the number 34. It is with this sandwich that I would come to fully fall in love with everything this classic sandwich shop represents as a member of the culinary community.
As broad-shouldered and rotund as the 'Stallion was, the Pork Hero was an even bigger, more massive work of art. This taller and wider high-rising compilation of thinly-sliced roast pork (cut to order), swiss cheese, that mesmerizing fried-eggplant, and an amazing house-made Giardiniera known as "hot salad" in the Defonte's world, made for one of the best sandwich experiences I've ever had, if not THE best in New York City. The roast pork is juicy, and cooked perfectly, and thankfully not too lean, resting on a blanket of crunchy, semi-bitter fried eggplant, then draped by a modest amount of Swiss cheese that adds a subtle tang to creation. Of course pies de resistance here is the homemade "hot salad" which is both the bed layer as well as the topping to this dazzling display of sandwichdom. This home-made menagerie of coarsely chopped pickled veggies that includes hot peppers, cauliflower, celery, and carrots, is Defonte's take on your typical Giardiniera. Without a doubt, this "hot salad" is one of the best food items I've ever sampled in my entire life and notwithstanding how perfectly it fits into the Pork Hero, would do just as fine as its own entity, if not any other sandwich you could possibly brainstorm. I want to put this stuff on everything. Literally...everything.
Needless to say, my sophomore sitting at Defonte's was a raving success. The Pork Hero was better than I ever could've imagined, offering the perfect combination of crispy, crunchy, tart, and tangy to ameliorate the buttery jus-soaked slices of lovely roasted pork. This sandwich is a MUST, and by far my favorite of the four I tried.
Day 3: The Valentino Special (#2)
Still reeling from my ecstatic experience with the Pork Hero, my third trip saw me order the Valentino Special (#2) which combined fried eggplant, provolone, and roasted peppers. Again, yet another excellent creation, though not nearly as formidable as the Pork Hero or the Italian Stallion; still thoroughly enjoyable nonetheless.
Day 4: The Hot Roast Beef (#20)
On my fourth trip, I opted for the Hot Roast Beef, which from what I understand, has emerged as Defonte's claim to fame in its storied (and long overdue) arrival on the other side of the East River. Knowing I'd be getting homemade roast beef with Defonte's own mozzarella on spectacular jus-sopped bread, I had no qualms whatsoever about the dynamic awesomeness of this hot sandwich. It probably goes without saying at this point, but the house-made, juicy medium-rare roast beef was incredibly tender, flavorful, and pleasingly pink. If anything, I would've liked it to be a bit more salty than it was, but regardless, the tenderness of the vibrantly pink meat against the crunchy eggplant, and the slightly sour fresh mozzy made for one tasty sandwich.
At the end of the day, or in this case, 10 days, I have not a doubt in my mind that Defonte's is the answer Manhattan's ailing sandwich problem. After years of paying too much for too little, die hard sandwich-lovers like myself can finally rest knowing an unquestionably legit sandwich has arrived to calm our nerves and fill our stomachs.
Defonte's is a stand-up establishment, run by genuine people that truly care about the quality of their food. You aren't successful for 87 years any other way. Having eaten here numerous times, I've had the chance to get acquainted with Nicky, the owner, and Liz, the Queen of the operation. Both Nicky's constant running of the shop, and Liz's classic "How ya doin baby?" at the register are but 2 more reasons why Defonte's represents the sort of culinary comradery and dedication to tradition that Manhattan could use much more of these days.
My deeply rooted love for Defonte's and all it represents can be best described in a short dialogue I had with Nicky on my 1st trip in. After inhaling my Italian Stallion, and crunching up the wax paper wrapping with gleeful approval, I took a long hard look at the menu board, and for a short second, seriously considered getting a second sandwich. I blurted to Nicky, "I'd get another one, but I don't want to be a cafone."
A self-effacing comment to which he quickly replied, "That's ok. We like cafone's here."
Need I say more?
In the end, here is my ranking of the sandwiches I've had so far:
1) Pork Hero
2) Hot Roast Beef
3) Italian Stallion
4) Valentino Special
Defonte's (map it)
Food: A (Everything I've had has been of the utmost quality)
Ambiance: A (Unpretentious, neighborhoody, and welcoming - real people serving real sandwiches)
Service: A (Quick check-out, even when it's busy - Nicky and company do a good job to avoid backups thanks to an endless work force and constant attention to who's coming in)
Embedded Value: A (most sandwiches range from $8-$11 , but are well worth it given the size and quality of the ingredients - all in all a fair price for Manhattan these days)
In a thought: "The triumphant savior of Manhattan's deteriorating sandwich culture. If the sandwich scene in Manhattan were today's American society, Defonte's would be Barack Obama, but better - since here, the goods taste even better than they sound."
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