Primanti’s: The World’s Greatest Sandwich

Gotta admit that I’m a little nervous today. I’m about to talk about Primanti’s, my favorite sandwich of all time. This sandwich, this divine towering paragon of all that a meal should be, is the one foodstuff I crave more than any other and the one thing I make a beeline for every time I visit the old Pittsburgh homestead.

Though less famous than Heinz ketchup or Klondike bars, Primanti Bros. (although no one says the “brothers” bit and just calls it “Primanny’s,” if you want to get your ‘Burgh accent going) is just as influential to Pittsburgh’s culinary history.

Based in the Strip District—home to the city’s wholesale food warehouses—since the 1930s, Primanti’s now has outposts throughout the greater Pittsburgh area and (somewhat inexplicably) Fort Lauderdale, Florida.

The legend goes that the Primanti brothers got into business feeding the truckers who dropped goods off in the Strip during the wee hours of the night leading into morning. The truckers were starving, so the bros packed the sandwich to the gills to give the guys a full meal that they could also hold in their hands while driving. (Although how one person could eat a Primanti’s samwidge and drive is beyond me—it takes me two hands just to get through one half—and the official bio skims past those details.)

However it went down, the Primanti siblings had lightning in a pan—er, on a griddle—and now everyone in Pittsburgh eats at Primanti’s. I remember stopping in before a They Might Be Giants show around the corner at Metropol to see Sally Wiggin, the Katie Couric of the Pittsburgh news anchor scene, wolfing one down with the common folk.

So with all of this background, aren’t you dying to know what makes up a Primanti’s sandwich and why it’s so killer?

Start with a thick slice of Italian bread. Add your choice of meat, which could be anything from jumbo bologna to pastrami to capicola to sardines (me, I’ll take the kolbassi), and then top with the following:

• a few slices of provolone cheese
• a few slices of tomato
• a handful of tangy vinegar-based coleslaw
• a pile of real skin-on french fries
• and then top with the other slice of bread, although not before adding a healthy shake of Frank’s Red Hot, if that’s your thing. (Of course that’s my thing too.)

The whole shebang melds together when you sink your teeth into it, though you might have to dislocate your jaw like a snake to get every single component in the same bite. Hot kolbassi meets chilly coleslaw, fluffy french fry innards soak up the slaw juice and mix with the bite of hot sauce, and the result is pure greasy magic barely held together in a spongy carb container.

That specific conglomeration of ingredients—a genius combo akin to the partnership of Lennon, McCartney, Harrison, and Starr—is best eaten at the original location on a slightly sticky wooden table surrounded by murals of Pittsburgh greats (including Jeff Goldblum, Gene Kelly, Bill Mazeroski, Dan Marino, and Mister Rogers) before heading out to walk the Strip and buy a City of Champions t-shirt at the Heinz History Center.

Oh, and on the menu, you’ll notice that cheesesteak is listed as the “#2 best-seller.” This begs the question from many a tourist: What’s #1? I’ll spare you the humiliation—it’s beer, of course. Preferably Iron City.

If this blew your mind but you’re nowhere near Pittsburgh and you want to try an at-home version, I believe this coleslaw is the key: