Sandwich Machine - Indianapolis, IN

Up on the northeast side of Indianapolis on Pendleton Pike, sits a long-standing sandwich shop.  One that reportedly serves the best sandwiches in the world.  This little known fact was echoed to me by a co-worker.  Now when you potentially have the best of any single thing in the entire world right in your own town, you have to check it out.  And so it went on one weekday lunch when I found myself on Pendleton Pike with my stomach aching for lunch.  My boss, my coworker and I all clambered in to try the best sandwiches in the world.

The decor inside is typical of a dive sandwich shop that is more than 30 years old.  Paper signs advertising sandwiches, Coca Cola, and other treats are sprinkled throughout the dining room.  We ordered at the counter and then found a seat among the laminate-coated booths that looked to have been removed straight from a 1970s A&W root beer stand and then dropped right in place.

As for food, the menu seemed pretty standard.  A range of submarine sandwiches were on the menu along with hot dog creations, hamburgers, and Indiana's state fried dish, the pork tenderloin.  If the sandwiches were indeed the best in the world, then my money was on the fact that the best sandwich should be Indiana's own tenderloin.  I ordered the big tenderloin since the menu advertised it as the most popular item.  I also opted to get sour cream and chives french fries as my side.  Figuring I should try one more menu item, I ordered a coney dog.

After sitting for a few minutes, I heard my name called and went to grab my lunch.  I fully expected to round the corner and see the food tray glowing with a halo of awesomeness since this would indeed be the best sandwich in the world.  I will say that while it didn't have a glorious glow emanating from it, I remained optimistic.

At least until I tried everything.  In typical dive fashion, nearly everything on my plate was made in a fryer.  The big tenderloin was in fact big, but at the cost of the flavor and texture.  My version of the world's greatest sandwich, would have had the tenderloin being hand breaded and pounded by hand to perfection before being gently fried and seasoned with just the right amount of salt and pepper.  This tenderloin was about 1/16 of an inch thick and was folded under itself several times, but it was devoid of all flavor.  In fact, the sandwich was so thin the entire thing tasted very similar to a fried cardboard box.

The Big Tenderloin with Sour Cream and Chives French Fries

Since the sandwich was clearly not the best in the world, and likely not even the best in a one square mile radius, my hopes lied in the french fries.  They weren't as I expected since my theory was that sour cream and chives french fries would be traditional fries served with a side of sour cream and chives.  Isn't that what you would assume as well?  Well you and I would both be wrong.  Instead, the fries were frozen french fries that were supposed to be flavored with sour cream and chives.  The fries didn't taste like anything in the end, unfortunately since the fries were cooked in the same fryer as everything else under the sun.  The end result was strike two.

The last glimmer of hope lied in the coney dog.  I love chili dogs.  Hands down one of my favorite diner treats.  With anticipation I cracked open the Styrofoam container protecting its precious cargo and then my hopes of a nice finish to the meal sank.The coney sauce, while it may have been tasty, immediately resembled a deep red wallpaper paste slathered on top of the hot dog that was not at all visible under the pile of sauce.  Ever adventurous, I tried a bite anyway and found the hot dog hidden within.  It was a steamed or boiled dog that was certainly not bun length or plump.  The wallpaper paste texture was a good precursor to the flavor.  It pretty much tasted like paste you added some chili pepper and beans to.  

Needless to say, the coney dog was strike three.  I can't say this place was the purveyor of the worlds best sandwiches and I honestly struggle to see how they have survived for over three decades.  I never wish bad things on local, family-owned restaurants, but it is hard to have much positive to say.  Perhaps the one glimmer of goodness is that the prices are fair.  The big tenderloin was $4.79, the fries were $1.79 and the coney dog was $1.56.  The food wasn't inedible and if you are craving a quick, cheap meal from a fryer then you will likely enjoy this place.  If you are looking for the world's greatest sandwich though, then keep on searching.