Surprising sports fans, mysterious hums, and something called “the handshake of monogamy.” These are the stories we didn’t wind up doing, but kind of wish we had.
Last week, ex-Justice Department staffer Sean Dunn, or “the D.C. Sandwich Guy,” was tried in front of a grand jury for the crime of throwing a hoagie at a Border Patrol agent. According to the charging papers, Dunn had thrown the “sub-style sandwich” after yelling “Fuck you! You fucking fascists!” The “victim,” as part of the Trump administration’s intensive federal takeover that began in August, was patrolling in the city’s U Street Corridor, a vibrant neighborhood for arts, culture, and nightlife. It’s also a neighborhood that has a Subway franchise.
The agent testified that, while uninjured, he could feel the sandwich’s “explosive” impact through his ballistic vest. Notably, he added, “I could smell the onions and mustard.” That was apparently enough to earn Dunn a federal assault charge. But on Thursday, Dunn was found not guilty.
We can’t possibly understand the full implications of this verdict just yet; only time will tell the true meaning of this acquittal as precedent. But from where we’re sitting: Sure seems like sandwich terrorism is now legal in the United States of America.
Incidentally, we’ve put together a list of really explosive sandwiches in the Bay Area.
The Saint, an eponymous and very juicy Italian-style sandwich, from The Saint in Oakland. (Soleil Ho/COYOTE Media Collective)
The Saint at The Saint
There are three things I’ve considered when selecting a sandwich to highlight for this story: Is it a business I feel strongly about supporting? Will the sandwich make a significant impact? Will I be very sad to have lost the opportunity to eat said sandwich? The answer lies in the signature sandwich from The Saint, a small shop on MacArthur Boulevard in Oakland’s Dimond District. It’s queer-owned, and the sandwiches are enormous (so big, in fact, that I’m never quite sure I’m going to be able to eat them without dissection). I’d be sad to lose out on my favorite curry chicken salad sandwich, but I absolutely hate pickled anything, so The Saint sandwich is a perfect choice. With salami, ham, provolone, olive and hot pepper spread, sweet peppers, banana peppers, pickled red onions, lettuce, garlic aïoli on a sesame hoagie, you know it’s going to be a drippy, smelly mess if I accidentally spill it on somebody. — Nuala
The foot-long meatball sub from Subway is heavy, long, and dense. (Photo courtesy of Matheus Bardemaker / Unsplash)
Meatball Sub at Subway
My immigrant parents raised me not to waste good food, so the idea of chucking a perfectly fine sandwich breaks my heart — no matter the situation. So, I will spare my Bay Area favorites (I’m looking at you, menu item #2 at Oakland’s Banh Mi Ba Le, and the Poor Boy Deluxe at Albany’s now-closed Zarri’s Deli) and instead nominate something I won’t miss: a foot-long, soggy meatball sub from a regular old Subway, ie: what I ate during finals as an undergrad. Tell the bored counter person to pile on extra sauce, and every gratuitous add-on they’ve got, like pepperoncini, olives, jalapeños, tomatoes — toss in a hefty sprinkle of lettuce for good measure — and be sure to have them toast the roll for extra structure so it’s easier to grip. It will be heavy, long and dense, and will land with what I imagine would be a very satisfying splat. — Cecilia
The 408 Smash breakfast sandwich at Hash N Dash's stall in the San Jose Japantown Farmers Market. (Soleil Ho/COYOTE Media Collective)
The 408 Smash at Hash N Dash
Sure, a hoagie or bánh mì would be the most aerodynamic options here, but imagine how a gloriously sloppy, mayo-slicked sandwich would look flying through the air. Think about the brilliant burst of Pollockian color you can achieve with the right sandwich! For this task, the 408 Smash at San Jose pop-up Hash N Dash would be ideal. It’s compact, with the heft of a baseball in your hand, and stacked like a sexy but kinda grotesque R. Crumb pin-up siren. All of the components are optimized for maximum spread: a greased-up sausage patty, droopy caramelized onions, a fried egg with a runny yolk, American cheese, Tapatio-spiked mayonnaise, and maple syrup. — Soleil
A turkey sandwich on Dutch crunch from Little Lucca Deli. Baby for scale. (Emma Silvers/COYOTE Media Collective)
Little Lucca Combo Special
My first instinct was a Studio Dad from Rhea’s, my favorite Mission District corner store/deli. Named for local music industry vet and patron of the arts Patrick Brown, this ham-and-salami number is loaded with crinkle-cut dill pickle chips, which would add a nice scratchy element on impact. However! The right answer here, from a pure ammunition standpoint, is anything from Little Lucca’s, the South San Francisco institution that has been serving up Dutch crunch-based behemoths larger than actual human babies since 1980. The Combo is stacked with mortadella, salami, provolone, and all the fixings. But the key, other than obscene size, is the sheer volume of savory, pungent, sure-to-stain condiments, including a decadent house-made garlic sauce (of which you can also order a pint or half-pint to go… just sayin’). — Emma
Soleil Ho is a cultural critic, cookbook writer, and food journalist who has a nasty habit of founding media projects instead of going to therapy: from the feminist literary magazine Quaint to food podcast Racist Sandwich to our dear COYOTE.
Emma Silvers is a San Francisco journalist with 15+ years of experience covering the people and policies shaping arts and culture in the Bay. She grew up in Albany and lives in the Mission.
Nuala Bishari is an investigative journalist and opinion columnist who's reported on the Bay Area since 2013. She writes about public health, homelessness, LGBTQ+ issues, and nature.
Cecilia Lei is a reporter and producer, as well as an audio and live events host based in the East Bay. She covers immigration, the criminal legal system, AAPI issues, as well as other Bay Area communities.
