The Spot: Anthony & Son Panini Shoppe

Where: Brooklyn, NYC

Exactly: 433 Graham Ave — Brooklyn, NY — 11211

There is a reason why this place is the first of what will be an illustrious collection of things between slices of bread. It belongs here. Almost on a pedestal by itself. Here’s how it went down…

As you can probably figure out, I like food. A lot. I’m always in search of the best eats in any city I’m in, which keeps me quite busy on Instagram looking at the best food porn it has to offer. A few years ago when I was working at the Mothership of ESPN in Bristol, CT, I quickly found that Central Connecticut didn’t have the most sophisticated palate when it came to decent grub.

Even less when it comes to sandwiches.

As I sat in my 1/1 apartment on the bad side of town, it hit my feed… I felt like Indiana Jones at the beginning of Raiders Of The Lost Ark when Indy finds the golden idol in the tomb. My eyes were like saucers.

A perfectly toasted garlic bread hoagie roll a crunchy, golden brown hue, oozing with fresh mozarell ( when you read this you have to say it in a Tony Soprano Jersey accent), fried chicken cutlets straight from the kitchen in Heaven and the kicker… vodka sauce.

Could this be it?

Perfection between two slices of bread, a choir of heavenly hosts exploded overhead while I clicked on the profile of this sorcery. Anthony & Son Panini Shoppe loads up, I then follow the location link hoping and praying this isn’t somewhere in Australia that I wouldn’t be able to get to easily. My Apple maps open, the dot is on Graham Ave — BROOKLYN. Less than 2 hours from me.

I have a couple of friends I grew up with in Miami that relocated to Brooklyn a few years ago to follow some job opportunities they couldn’t pass up with a sports tech startup and a professional sports league’s social media team. Living in central Connecticut, I was just a Metro-North Train ride down to Grand Central Station. I would make the trip once a month to kick it with them and explore the city.

I immediately text into my group chat with over 15 of my best friends where we all communicate daily and send them the link of the sandwich. The two who live in Brooklyn both reply instantaneously with — “ THAT PLACE IS FIRE” ( for those of you out of the loop on such vernacular — Miamians use the term ‘fire’ to show the highest approval possible for said item ). At that time I only worked Mon-Thurs and guess what, it was Thursday night. I text back — bags are packed, I’ll be there tomorrow.

Fast forward to Saturday afternoon, after a night of debauchery and an abundance of alcohol the boys and I set our sights on Anthony and Sons. A little hungover and plenty hungry we begin the mile walk from Greenpoint in the NYC humidity of late August. Which if you haven’t experienced, feels like a mix of standing in a sauna while opening an oven that’s set at the temperature of the sun.

As we near the store, which is right on the corner of the block, I can’t tell if my body is realizing that in mere moments I will be consuming one of the most delicious sandwiches ever OR if I’m succumbing to heat exhaustion and a hangover.

We hit the door, open it, a rush of cold air hits us and instantly the unintelligible banter of people ordering food and talking amongst each other drown out our conversation. Then a sharp Brooklyn accent cuts through the clutter. “Whadda ya want boss” directed right at me. I take a step to the 20ft long counter spotted with deli meat, cold antipasto and various other items. I take a look up at a huge row of TV screens that have the menu and my eyes quickly scan for the FDNY. By the way, all the sandwiches have very apropos names — The Godfather, The Patriot, Whyoumad, Cuban Links, The Paisano and the list goes on. I tell the guy in my most confident voice to give me an FDNY.

The artist behind the counter starts to put together the sandwich equivalent of a Picasso, Monet or van Gogh.

The Bread: A hero split in half doused with olive oil and Italian seasoning with garlic toasted to prime golden perfection.

Sauce: Both sides are spread with Anthony & Son’s vodka sauce that’s made fresh in-store and is sprinkled with freshly chopped prosciutto.

Toppings: 3!!! huge, perfectly fried chicken cutlets the size of your hand get added on top. (Seriously, I don’t know what bread crumbs get put on these cutlets but it’s fucking incredible and always cooked with excellent uniformity.) Then more of the vodka sauce gets adorned to completely drown the chicken. After all that, the crown jewel is put on right before toasting it one final time- 5 freshly made mozzarell slices that get melted into a snow-white bed of deliciousness.

Presentation: All that gets rolled into parchment paper and split in half and wrapped in foil to keep everything together.

He passes it down to the cashier, I pay for it and head out to a deck-like area outside the shop where you can eat your sandwich quickly if you lack the willpower to take it home. Which I do.

I ripped open the foil and broke the sandwich open… Time stood still as I took a bite. The instant the collection of ingredients hit my tastebuds I realized that I had never eaten a sandwich so fulfilling. The flavors sent me to the great beyond and back. The melted cheese, the crispy bread & chicken cutlet and the vodka sauce all together in symphony made me appreciate the simplicity and authenticity of what a sandwich is supposed to represent.

The freedom to create something from nothing. Anthony & Son’s delivers on that idea.

You’ll be hard-pressed to find a better sandwich shop in all of NYC.

The best sandwich I EVER HAD.