The town has a few qualified biscuit specialists, but this frill-free coffee shop nails two vital skill sets: biscuits tall as a beehive and rippling with butter, and fillings sandwiched inside that are clever enough to hold their own amid all those fluffy carbs. The Spanish Fly—manchego cheese, arugula, peppery aioli, and egg yolk drizzling down folds of prosciutto—will impress you with its nuance, but also slay that hangover.

A food truck dedicated to breakfast sandwiches? The brilliance of this idea is matched only by that of Sunny Up’s sandwiches, made with square telera rolls—the kind used for Mexican tortas. Italian seasoning gives new dimension to the Sausage Patti Smith. The vegetarian Frida Avokahlo actually makes kale seem decadent. The Mia Ham, the Nina Smoked Salmone, the Ruth Tater Ginsburg all pack an impressive amount of culinary intrigue. The only thing better than the femtastic sandwich names: those harissa-dusted hash browns. 

Baker Melissa Johnson channels the humble bacon, egg, and cheese sandwiches of her Long Island childhood. But surely her neighborhood deli wasn’t spreading eggs in a pan to cook thin as a crepe, then folding the delicate results into a housemade poppy seed roll with American cheese and bacon, should you want it (you should want it). The steamy filling softens the roll a tick, making this a rare sandwich that gets better as it travels.

The bicycle shop–slash–cafe could coast (argh, no pun intended) on the inherent Seattle-ness of bike chain repairs and vegan avocado toast under one roof. Instead, the newly expanded cafe presents vegetables as an act of indulgence. The house breakfast sandwich (like most dishes here) comes in vegetarian, vegan, and “bursting with sausage” versions; ciabatta is a sophisticated changeup from biscuits and english muffins. If morning feels a little early for sophistication, consider the Hot Mess, a Midwestern tater tot casserole masquerading as a sandwich. 

Imagine the fast-food breakfast of carefree youth, rebuilt with grown-up ingredients: local eggs, nitrate-free bacon, english muffins from Rudi’s. But the local burger chainlet achieves breakfast greatness you only dream of at a drive-through: an extra-crunchy hash brown patty tucked inside the sandwich. How did this not become standard decades ago?

How can a tiny spot with an even tinier menu cut such an imposing figure on our breakfast landscape? It starts with an egg and Beecher’s Flagship cheddar, seemingly innocuous inside a righteously toasted english muffin. But green onion punches up the egg, and pickled daikon forges an unlikely alliance with country ham from the famous Benton’s in Tennessee. Like the rest of B-Side’s menu, it remixes flavors across continents, then finishes things off with exceptional hot sauce.

Can one of the town’s best breakfast sandwiches really be this easy? The version at this Portage Bay bakery, housed in a former motorboat repair shop, is all about adding dimension to the essentials. Japanese-style melonpan buns sport a crisp cookie cap and an unexpected whisper of cardamom. American cheese tops the fried egg, doing its patriotic duty to help this artful sandwich channel its inner McDonald’s breakfast.

A straightforward café keeps its house breakfast sandwich simple—egg, slab of cheddar, the crunchiest bacon. Because really, it’s just a framing device for a swaggering knot of challah pretzel bun. Each one comes studded with salt and sporting the sturdy softness of the women in a Dove ad campaign. Even better—it’s available all day.

A delightful byproduct of Seattle’s bagel boom: all these great bagel sandwiches. When the former Pork Chop and Co. went all in on its bagel and burrito alter ego, it enshrined a breakfast sandwich lineup that traipses through all the food groups. Roasted pork loin with hummus; scrambled egg with kale and mushrooms; slabs of roasted delicata with prosciutto and truffle cream cheese. The combos reveal this place’s restaurant roots, but the skill level on the bagels out the bakers as accomplished dough nerds. Yes, the burritos are also great, but the duo of biscuit sandwiches deserve your attention.

The english muffins that anchor Tom Douglas’s enduring breakfast sandwiches are puffier, more free-form than the usual tightly scripted rounds. The Serious Pie–Dahlia Bakery hybrid still fills them with grown-up takes on breakfast flavors: perfectly fried egg, lots of arugula, lots of spice in the aioli. T-Doug’s Serious Biscuits are back, but these classic sandwiches stand the test of time.

If this offshoot of West Seattle’s Lady Jaye were anywhere other than an office park tucked between two highways, it would be absolutely mobbed at all times with Instagrammers posing under the giant portrait of Bob Ross painting Dolly Parton and Anthony Bourdain as American Gothic. But instead of having to wait in a massive line, customers can waltz right in for a breakfast smashwich. The soft roll just barely contains a McDonald’s-style crispy hash brown, runny fried egg, and lacy-edged smash-cooked sausage patty. A slice of American cheese and slather of spicy mayo pull it together, but if that lacks enough fire, Little Jaye stocks an impressive collection of hot sauces.

My sympathies to the people for whom this bakery is not on the way to work, because, to paraphrase the great Seattle-based film 10 Things I Hate About You, the difference between like and love is that I like the weekend breakfast sandwich at Ben’s Bread, but I love the weekday version. And if you love the “fancy” weekend version? Maybe that’s because you haven’t had the weekday one. Both have the velvety smooth squares of souffled egg, but the weekend version costs $1.50 more, and trades out the renowned sourdough english muffin for a brioche bun and the American cheese for Beecher’s Dulcet. On weekdays, customers can upgrade with crispy bacon, on weekends it’s sausage or greens. Both are good, but breakfast sandwiches are an everyday pleasure, at their best when simple and great.

It’s the small things that make Mas Cafe’s breakfast sandwich so much better than the usual good-enough neighborhood café version.  More specifically, the small bacon. See, by chopping the heaping pile of crisped meat, Mas demonstrates a deep understanding of the mechanics of a breakfast sandwich: Every bite carries the meaty flavor, and the extremely melty white cheddar holds it in place. The lacy-edged egg is cooked enough that the yolk gently seeps into the rest of the sandwich without spurting out or soaking the toasted bun, the caramelized onions rival the original Paseo, and flecks of cilantro and red pepper add extra oomph. Mas also adds a little more color to the morning with a rainbow of Mexican-style fresh fruit and vegetable juices.