× Expand Photo by Kevin A. Roberts

There’s a great tradition of restaurant signs that read “Eat”: neon ones that have adorned countless diners across the country, as well as, closer to home, the admonishment “Eat-Rite or Don’t Eat at All.” The rock group Brownsville Station immortalized Eat as the perfect name for a fine scarfing establishment, even if you’re a Martian. And, of course, I’m drawn to any place called Eat at Joe’s.

So when several exceptionally well-pedigreed local urbanophiles decided that Tower Grove South lacked a good grab-and-go sandwich shop (especially after the demise of Local Harvest’s excellent café), it was almost preordained that the place would somehow include “Eat” in its name. Thus was born EAT Sandwiches.

The space that houses EAT Sandwiches has quite a pedigree, having housed the original cramped-but-charming Local Harvest Grocery (now located just up the street), which helped embed the locavore concept into the local food-shopping psyche.

Without wall-to-wall shelves and cases, the interior now seems almost airy, taking on a high degree of coolness from such elements as cobalt blue hex tiles on the counter’s front face, hanging caged Edison bulbs and other funky light fixtures, and artwork that captures St. Louis’ once and future urban streetscapes.

× Expand Photo by Kevin A. Roberts

× Expand Photo by Kevin A. Roberts

Byron Smith is the prime ’wich crafter, a creative chef who puts his chops—or at least his cold cuts—to work, giving each item at EAT Sandwiches memorable touches. The jerk chicken sandwich, for example, is richer than you might expect, owing to the use of thigh meat, with habanero jack cheese providing (what turns out to be a recurring motif) a spicy kick. The braised pork gets a little something extra from pickled onions and a bunch of cilantro, and the properly pressed Cuban incorporates plain ol’ yellow mustard.

Two other things that will make you want to eat regularly at EAT Sandwiches: the devotion to local ingredients and producers and the in-house prep and production. The ham on the Cuban sandwich and others comes from Miller, a South St. Louis fixture; the cooler is loaded with local microbrews; and desserts from Whisk bakery are displayed on the counter. When there’s enough time for it to be made, there’s a pastrami sandwich with house-made pastrami, and the turkey in the smoked turkey club has layers of flavor you’d never find in store-bought stuff.

All of the sandwiches are, of course, made to order, and the speed with which this is done is impressive, but that means you should budget five to 10 minutes into the process. Whether you’re carrying out or eating in, the specialties are some of the greatest things since sliced bread.