Native New Yorker here. Twenty years living in south Minneapolis and I still talk like I’m driving a cab in Flatbush. No amount of wind chill, craft beer, or hotdish can wean that out of me. 

But just because I don’t speak “Minnesotan” doesn’t mean I haven’t become one. True story: I love it here. My friends in New York don’t believe me, and that’s fine—their loss. From the arts to sports to frozen custard to summer nights on the deck, it’s all good. I’m even OK with cutting pizza into rectangles, as long as you use the good cheese, fresh veggies, and house-made sausage. And trust me: Traffic on the Crosstown is nothing compared to the Triborough Bridge on a Friday afternoon in July. 

But there’s one thing about eating out in Minneapolis that still bugs me. It’s the lack of heroes—not cops or fire fighters, but those long sandwiches on thick bread found all over that nebulous region you know as “back East.” Call it a sub. Call it a grinder. Call it a hoagie. Call it whatever you want, but there aren’t enough places selling ‘em around here, and I shouldn’t have to drive to Jersey Mike’s in Richfield or Edina to get one.  

To be clear, here’s what I’m not talking about: Subway, Potbelly, or any chain joint with the atmosphere of a shipping container. I’m also not talking about Jewish delis, like Cecil’s in St. Paul’s Highland Park neighborhood. Completely different deal. That’s a conversation for another day.

Here’s what I am talking about: A joint with cured meat hanging from the ceiling, and that unmistakable aroma of fresh cheese and marinara. A joint with one guy behind the counter who knows you by your order, and two more guys in the back arguing in Italian. There’s a vibe to those places the chains can’t replicate. Everyone’s in a hurry, including you, because your stomach clock went off 15 minutes ago and you need one of those bad boys right now, especially with all those great smells filling your senses.

Here in Minneapolis, a town with more James Beard-level chefs and high-end restaurants than we know what to do with, why can’t I get a decent hero, especially for less than 10 bucks? Given the rising costs of eating out (and everything else), there should be a market for simple, affordable, family-friendly options.

Look around. Revival just closed because fewer and fewer customers are willing to pay $22 for a plate of fried chicken, no matter how good it is. Throw in sides, drinks, a tip, a credit card fee, and maybe a “wellness charge,” and you’re close to $100 for dinner for two. For fried chicken. In the (arguably) most frugal state in the union. I mean, what are we even doing here?

Dan Campo of South Lyndale Liquors & Market (5516 Lyndale Ave., S.,  Minneapolis) feels my pain. That’s why, two years ago, he opened a killer deli counter after relocating his store a few blocks south from the original location. 

He inherited the business from his parents, both Italian-Americans from Brooklyn. Trips back to their old Bensonhurst neighborhood introduced him to what he lovingly calls “sandwich culture.”

In 1980, five years after the liquor store opened, Campo said his mother brought home a deli slicer, one of those big stainless steel jobs you find in every deli from South Jersey to Southern Maine. “She’s like, 'There are no delis in this area, we’re going to do a good deli,’” he remembers. Long story short, it never happened. 

But Campo never forgot his mother’s vision, or where it sprung from. As Campo puts it:

When my parents moved here in 1970, in their minds, there wasn’t anything that they considered East Coast, where they wanted to go eat. Maybe a couple of restaurants, but not enough. As Italians in Minneapolis, they missed walking up the street and getting a good sandwich. When you go back East, it’s one of the things you do. I don’t know why it’s not part of the culture here, or hasn’t been. This town, Minneapolis, we have a food scene that’s incredible compared to when my parents moved here 55 years ago. To get that food from the plate to our mouths, we’re using a fork. One of the things that’s culturally different, from these Italian neighborhoods in New York, the vehicle isn’t a fork. It’s bread. And a sandwich isn’t just a pile of cold cuts. It’s a culinary thing that’s happening. It’s incredible food you’re putting into proper bread, and that bread is the vehicle that becomes the fork.

Campo hired Matt Bickford, co-owner of the defunct Be’Wiched Deli in the North Loop, as culinary director for his sandwich venture. They concocted a menu of delightful though pricey heroes that evoke memories of tastes and aromas past.

Start with the staples: An Italian hero with various cold cuts, mozzarella, and tapenade ($15.95); meatball and chicken parm hoagies ($14.95); and straight-up prosciutto or mortadella (each $15.95). There’s also Italian beef ($14.95), smoked turkey ($14.95), tuna confit ($15.95), and egg salad ($10.95). 

The chicken parm is a little different—and better, IMHO—than standard New York fare. Instead of a breaded chicken patty smothered in melted cheese and marinara, Campo and Bickford opted for tender seasoned chicken, substituted fontina for mozzarella, and added pesto plus red and green peppers. You taste the chicken, not the cheese. Homemade marinara comes separately for dipping. Good stuff, and worth every penny.  

“I don’t think I’m some sort of brilliant person,” Campo says. “I had a craving for something I couldn’t really get in my neighborhood in Minneapolis, so I wanted to create that. Selfishly, I wanted to have these sandwiches, but I can’t just make them for myself. I want to share them with other people. That’s what we do, and that’s what keeps the lights on.”

I asked Campo if it was possible to sell a good hero for $10 or less in today’s economy. He said no, not if you want something that’s high quality and really good. Campo didn’t go cheap on the cold cuts, mixing imported and domestic brands, with the prosciutto straight from Parma, Italy—the best in the world.

“I think the thing people don’t get with sandwiches in the Midwest culturally is, there’s a cooking, culinary aspect to sandwiches,” he says. “It isn’t just throwing some extra pizza toppings on some bread.”

So where else can you get a good hero around here? This isn’t an exhaustive list, just a few places I like. Feel free to add your own in the comments. Meanwhile, I’m rooting for more like these to open closer to my house.

Brianno’s Deli Italia

2280 Cliff Rd., Eagan

Tucked behind an abandoned gas station near the Cedar Avenue overpass, Brianno’s offers a stripped-down version of a classic Italian deli, with a limited menu of terrific to-go heroes. A half sandwich is plenty for all but the most voracious appetites. (Fair warning: There’s no place to sit, so everything is takeout.)

Last week I had a hankering for the meatball and cheese ($9.99 for a half), which the kid behind the counter assembled like a bricklayer. He sliced a half-dozen meatballs in half to keep them from squirting out of the bread. Then he added two big slices of provolone, topped it with marinara, and wrapped it all in Saran so the cheese melted in transit. “I love making this,” he told me. And my wife and I loved eating it. Bravo.

JC’s Subs

5621 Wayzata Boulevard South, St. Louis Park

Be prepared to hunt for this one, in a strip mall just off I-394 and Park Place Boulevard. Lots of greatest hits here, including a tasty six-inch meatball and provolone hero for $9.99. A few tables, no frills, but good stuff. Skip the pastrami. I’ve never found anyone west of New Jersey who does it right, though Cecil’s comes close.

Jersey Mike’s 

Various Twin Cities locations

No Italian red sauce favorites, but this New Jersey-based chain delivers acceptable East Coast heroes and cheesesteaks. A six-inch roast beef “Mike’s Way,” with onions, lettuce, tomatoes, their blend of olive oil and red wine vinegar—“the juice,” in shop vernacular—plus spices goes for $9.99. Last year many locations gave discount cards to frequent customers, good for a free drink and chips. Hoping they bring that back. And let’s all hope private equity firm Blackstone acquiring Jersey Mike’s for $8 billion last fall doesn’t lead to the chain’s downfall.    

Bo Diddley’s Deli

9633 Anderson Lakes Parkway, Eden Prairie

Never been to this brick-’n’-mortar location; I know Bo’s from its stand at Canterbury Park, where its hefty, fresh subs are a press box favorite. They come in three sizes (third, half and whole) on cracked wheat hoagie rolls. Even with my big appetite, a half—generally $8 to $10—fills me up.

All the basics—roast beef, turkey, ham, tuna etc.—come with lettuce, tomato, onion, mild banana peppers, cheese (Swiss or provolone), pickle, mayo, and their homemade spiced oil. If you live northwest of the Twin Cities, you’ll find other Bo’s locations in St. Cloud and St. Joseph.