Sausage Sandwich

There are as many kinds of sausage sandwich as there are sausages. (In a sense, even a hot dog could be considered a sausage sandwich.) In and around Newark, New Jersey, Italian sausages come tucked inside a big round loaf that is like hefty pita bread. Along with the sausages, inside the bread, go crisp-fried discs of potato and a tangle of sautéed onions and peppers. In Cincinnati, formerly known as Porkopolis, where old-fashioned butchers still turn out dozens of kinds of sausages (bierwurst, bockwurst, kielbasa, etc.), Avril-Bleh & Sons operates a street cart serving mettwurst sandwiches. A cured, deeply smoked, rugged-grind sausage about twice as portly as a regular hot dog, a mett is cooked over coals and bunned with peppers, onions, kraut, and condiments. Many of Chicago’s great Italian beef purveyors also offer sausage sandwiches as well as half-and-half sandwiches of sausage and beef, dressed like beef with roasted peppers and/or giardiniera. Modern regulations decree that the sausages must be cooked with gas, but some of the old-time places have their charcoal grills grandfathered in. Finally, mention must be made of the sausage sandwich dished out by Helen’s Sausage House in Smyrna, Delaware. Helen’s sausages are thick, crusty cylinders with plenty of Italian zest, so juicy that they spurt when bitten. A normal sandwich is two in a roll with fried green peppers and onions – a majestic food grouping that connoisseurs consider among the nation’s finest sausage sandwiches.