This paradise of Japanese-style sandos hides in a strip mall. A no-frills walk-up counter serves nearly 60 varieties, each cut into two crustless halves, neatly wrapped in a cellophane triangle. The choices (from BLT to okonomiyaki to rum raisin custard, all on the fluffiest bread) can boggle the mind. But know this: The top row of the display cases contains Tres’s top sellers. The pork katsu and anything involving the dainty egg salad offer a great starting point. And while the strawberry and whipped cream sandwich is good, the one that adds Oreos is better.

Seattle famously has a few great Caribbean roast sandwiches in town. The version at this duo of tropically bright Ballard shops is a monstrous and messy legend:  the slow-roasted pork, marinated until it’s as bright as Un Bien’s exterior paint job. A ticker tape parade of caramelized onions and toasted baguette swiped with aioli. Cilantro, romaine, pickled jalapenos. Un Bien is essentially a takeout window with a bit of outdoor seating; it’s hard to pass up that roast, but the menu’s other half dozen sandwiches pull off the same intensity of Caribbean flavor. A third location is coming to Queen Anne later this year.

Brian Tatman obsessively channels East Coast deli culture with an enormous menu of hoagies, grinders, and hot subs, not to mention a circa-1900 brick building. The shop is perhaps best known for its cheesesteak (best with whiz) and the tat’strami (house pastrami, delicately shaved to share the limelight with the slaw, swiss, and Russian dressing). But great finds lurk everywhere, from white meat versions of those two sandwich favorites, to a straightforward Tat’s Italian hoagie you can order topped with a layer of Tim’s chips. The Tat’s truck roams breweries and events in the area, but a few key sandwiches will soon pop up on the menu at the Crocodile.

It’s the best kind of geographic riddle: A Portland-based sandwich operation that celebrates its owner’s Chicago roots just opened in Seattle—as a non-mobile food truck parked permanently outside Project 9 Brewing. The Italian beef sandwich is an ever-so-slightly cheffy version with seared sweet peppers draped atop house roast beef. But this is no one-trick truck; the long list of hits includes a tuna melt and anything involving pastrami (be it beef or pork).

Over the years, Dan Crookston has safeguarded one of the town’s coolest, most eclectic sandwich menus, bequeathed by Mean’s original owners. This includes a Jersey-style sub, the steak tartare club sandwich, and a corned beef with an unexpected (but delightful) gust of mint. Crookston’s own additions—a smash burger, a fried chicken po’boy—are more straightforward, but just as well considered. The oyster po’boy shouts out to his days as a salesman for Hama Hama Oyster Company. A large patio-garden in the back puts out ping-pong, darts, and cornhole in nice weather.

A friendly 40-year-old North End institution puts out more than 40 different subs, which pump up classic sandwich combos with careful extras (garlic mayo, various sauces, barbecue dust) and a fearless approach to layering multiple meats. Everything happens inside a custom baguette from Essential Baking Company that’s fluffy inside, crunchy outside, and holds up well, even for travel. The Lake City location relocated to Bothell in 2022, but the Lynnwood outpost carries on. Regulars know that if you order a large, each half can be its own meal.

It’s a worn-in Georgetown tavern with old brick walls and a die-hard love of motorsports (the Burien location is all ages). It’s also a patio oasis filled with covered tables and personable art. Not to mention a low-key sandwich specialist that roasts its own beef and makes a house giardiniera so good, the shop sells it by the jar (except it’s often sold out). The 18-sandwich menu includes the top-selling troublemaker—which proves sliced chicken can be decadent—and a sterling Italian beef.

Seattle, of course, is rife with excellent banh mi shops. Housemade ingredients mean even classic sandwiches like the dac biet are solid here. But the lineup contains a few surprises. Pleasant ones. Like the banh mi filled with corned beef and a fried egg, or another with chicken braised in soy sauce and butter with sweet onions and just a hint of melted mozzarella. A thicket of herbs, jalepeno, and pickled veggies leaven those rich meats. This little spot at the crux of Greenwood Avenue and Holman Road also serves a full menu of pho, rice and noodle entrees, and snacks like wings and quail egg poppers.

The town’s most sought-after food truck hung up its keys this spring. But the owners will soon open a brick-and-mortar Layers location that will sell the same hyper-thoughtful sandwiches—with less likelihood the kitchen will run out by lunchtime. Favorites like the Precocious Piggy (with rich chunks of pork belly) and the Captain Rick (an impeccably sourced tuna melt with a layer of potato chips) will be on the expanded menu. So will a pastry and bread program from Ellary Collins, a breakfast menu, and beer and wine. Look for Layers 2.0 at 7900 East Green Lake Drive North in July.     

One of the city’s OG food trucks still makes the rounds—and still puts out a memorable menu of po’boys. New Orleans native Matthew Lewis knows the importance of the region’s particular, slightly lighter style of french bread. He also knows the importance of filling it with fried shrimp, catfish, chicken, or oysters, all superlatively breaded with cornmeal. Other versions include a smoked portabella and a pork with a really nice apple slaw. The po’boy is more than filling, but it’s hard to leave without an order of fresh-fried beignets.

Great sandwiches are often a product of careful bread-to-filling ratios. Then there’s this Capitol Hill deli, which hides behind a nondescript entrance. Vance Dingfelder piles his corned beef or pastrami so high, meat becomes a succulent, rose-hued precipice barely contained by two slices of marble rye. The excess is the point. You can order a slightly smaller “Seattle style” sandwich for a few bucks less, but that’s no fun. What is fun: the option to combine two, or even three meats, or add a schmear of chopped liver.