W P.
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I love sandwiches, and if Walter French’s didn’t deliver, I’d be a monkey’s uncle.
We pulled in on our way to the airport, right as we were leaving town. They were about to close and were sold out of almost everything. I was genuinely despondent. I needed this stop.
Then the owner, curator, and sandwich artist, accompanied by the cutest French bulldog puppy imaginable, said they still had enough to make their signature sandwich. I didn’t hesitate.
What we got was the Big Dom, and it absolutely lived up to the name. This sandwich had a life of its own. If it could speak, it would be fluent in Italian and sarcasm. Layered cured meats, provolone, peppers, shredduce, tomato, all stacked with intention rather than excess for its own sake.
The balance was the real trick here. Just the right level of spice, enough meat and cheese to leave you fully satisfied, and somehow still making you want another bite even though you are already full and questioning your life choices.
We also got a bag of chips made locally in Portland, which felt like the perfect companion. Crisp, well-seasoned, and clearly chosen with care rather than as an afterthought.
Nothing about this sandwich was sloppy. Nothing felt overbuilt. It was confident, composed, and executed by someone who knows exactly what they are doing.
Huge thanks to my friend Nick for the recommendation. This one absolutely delivered.
Walter French’s is the kind of place you remember after you leave town and immediately wish you had gone twice. If you love sandwiches, do not miss it. And if they tell you they can still make one, say yes.