Dom's Subs, E2

Us Doms gotta stick together

Let’s be real: I was always going to like Dom’s Subs. A place that bears my name, combines it with a risqué pun, and slings whopping great American-style subs? Easy win.

More than that though, these sandwiches were in a strange way a bit of a lifeline. During the first year of the Covid pandemic, when little about the world made sense and all the usual rhythms of life dropped away, my then-flatmate Jake and I adopted a simple habit: once a week we’d get big, silly sandwiches delivered to the flat and eat them while watching the latest episode of whatever middling Marvel or Star Wars series was streaming on Disney+ at the time. More often than not, those sandwiches came from Dom’s.

It means I’ve eaten more of their subs than I could count, and yet have somehow never managed to actually visit the original Hackney Road Dom’s site. This is a foodstuff that only exists for me in the confines of my own home, a luxurious lunch for which I pay just slightly over the odds for the privilege of eating it in front of the TV.

I don’t eat Dom’s Subs weekly any more, which I regard as a regrettable concession to the fact that I’d probably like to live past 70, which requires setting at least some limitations on the deli meat in my life. It’s a shame, because there aren’t many people in the UK doing a better job with it.

Before any Americans jump into the comments: no, I’m not quite sure these subs do justice to the States’ greatest efforts. Perhaps metrically minded, the sliced stacks here can be measured in centimetres, but not quite inches, so if you have visions of hoagies that require you to fully unhinge your jaw to get started, these won’t entirely scratch the itch. Whether it’s ingredient pricing or just local appetites, the UK simply doesn’t do sandwiches stacked as high as Americans tend to (feel free to insert your own joke about privatised healthcare or life expectancy here), and even the implicitly America-inspired Dom’s follows that lead.

Still, what you get is great. That Spicy D is my default, stacking ham and two types of salami on top of provolone, caponata, and a bed of rocket, topped with chilli mayo, pangrattato, and a couple of pickled peppers. There’s enough heat and acidity to cut through the mound of meat, and break up any risk of monotony from working through a full foot of sandwich. The Habibi Club is simpler, but works well for it: sliced turkey, Swiss cheese, lettuce, tomato, and guacachile. It’s that last touch that lifts this beyond just another sandwich you might make for yourself on a lunch break, a sharp edge that’s essential to the overall effect.

The bread is baked in-house every day, and to my eye fits the bill well: a dense crumb with a soft crust, but robust enough to soak up excess mayo or a slather of gravy without falling apart. Is this the best sub bread in the country? Probably, though in fairness you’d have to say they don’t have much competition.

There’s an argument to be made that Dom’s Subs best efforts are actually the sandwiches that break from the sliced meat ‘n’ cheese formula. The Grapow usually lives up to the website’s promise of “VERY SPICY!!!” with fiery red chillies studding the mix of Thai ground chicken and pickled vegetables, while the Tie Dye Meatballs play it straighter than the name would suggest, not straying too far from the meat + red sauce formula. Best of the bunch is the Roast Pork, their take on Philadelphia’s other sandwich, piling gravy-soaked meat onto broccoli rabe and provolone. I say this hesitantly, because I know people will come at me for it, but this is every bit as good as the version I ate in Philly itself.

Dom’s menu has expanded a little over the years, which they ultimately decided to formalise into a ‘Secret Menu’ you can only access by, well, scrolling a little further down the website. Here you’ll find mashups of the old favourites: a Habibi D that pairs the Spicy D’s rocket and caponata with the Habibi Club’s turkey and cheese; a Pork Pow that tops roast pork with the Grapow’s pickled carrots. Both halves of the menu include multiple veggie options, though I prefer the Vegan Dom 2.0, packed with spicy aubergines, green beans, and a Thai-tinged salad.

It’s probably a good thing that I no longer need a weekly footlong sub to maintain my emotional equilibrium, but Dom’s Subs will always serve that role in my life. Some days, when work is frantic and my meetings feel endless and a new Marvel show just dropped, there’s nothing to soothe the soul like a big, fuck-off sandwich from the comfort of my couch. And for that, Dom’s delivers.