The Simple Joys of a Good Deli Sandwich
There’s something beautifully unpretentious about a proper deli sandwich. Not some overpriced, Instagram-worthy creation with seventeen ingredients you can’t pronounce, but a straightforward, generous sandwich made by people who actually know what they’re doing.
I came across a thread recently about a spot in Dandenong Market doing Italian-style sandwiches, and it got me thinking about these little pockets of authenticity that still exist around Melbourne. Someone posted a photo of what they’re calling a “Peppa Roll” – presumably loaded with Italian cold cuts – and the immediate response was exactly what you’d hope for: genuine appreciation, people sharing their experiences, and that satisfying sense of community that forms around good, honest food.
At $18, one commenter noted they could split one of these sandwiches with their partner for lunch. That’s the thing about proper deli sandwiches – they’re not stingy. There’s a generosity in the construction that feels increasingly rare in our world of shrinkflation and cost-cutting. You’re getting actual value, not just paying for the postcode or the aesthetic.
The thread had that lovely organic quality of locals sharing knowledge. Someone mentioned this particular deli does good sandwiches regularly, while another declared them possibly the best Italian-style deli sandwiches in Melbourne. There’s no pretension here, just people who’ve found something good and want to share it.
What strikes me most is how these places become anchors in their communities. Dandenong Market itself is one of those wonderfully diverse Melbourne institutions – a place where you can find ingredients and flavours from every corner of the globe, where English might be the third or fourth language you hear, and where the focus is squarely on the food rather than the branding. It’s authentic in a way that’s getting harder to find in the more gentrified parts of the city.
The fact that people are creating fictional sandwich names inspired by children’s cartoon characters (someone asked about a “Bluey Roll” with blue cheese) shows the kind of easy-going relationship regulars have with this spot. It’s familiar, comfortable, unpretentious. You’re not worrying about whether your outfit is right or if you’ve booked ahead. You’re just getting a bloody good sandwich.
In an era where so much of our retail experience is being homogenised – the same chains, the same layouts, the same predictable everything – places like this matter more than they might seem to. They’re proof that there’s still room for specialists, for people who do one thing really well, for businesses that serve their community rather than some corporate mandate handed down from a head office interstate.
The deli probably doesn’t have a slick social media presence or a brand consultant. They’re just making excellent sandwiches, the kind where you can taste the care and experience that goes into choosing the right cold cuts, the right bread, the right balance of flavours. And people keep coming back because, well, that’s what matters in the end.
I should probably make the trip out to Dandenong Market myself soon. It’s been too long, and winter’s coming – perfect sandwich weather. There’s something grounding about these places, a reminder that not everything needs to be disrupted or optimised or “elevated.” Sometimes the best things are the ones that just keep doing what they’ve always done, serving their community, one generous sandwich at a time.
That’s worth supporting, worth celebrating, and definitely worth the drive across town.