The Prime Rib with Hollandaise Steak Sauce, avec et sans makeup

Maybe because my first experience at Quiznos didn’t occur until relatively recently, and as such there is no emotional or nostalgic connection to cloud an objective judgment, I have always considered it the least appealing of the prominent national sandwich shops. Although its menu is, on the surface, no more generic nor nutrition-devoid than others of its ilk, I’ve always found something vaguely but uniquely subpar about the Denver-based chain.

With its new Prime Rib with Hollandaise Steak Sauce, the latest in a dizzying rotation of limited-time-only offerings, the self-declared creator of the toasted sandwich has once again reappropriated the kind of high-brow ingredients you’d sooner expect to find in a white tablecloth dining room. (I’m reminded of Washingtonian‘s tour of summertime chain lobster rolls.) I’ll also give Quiznos props for having the brass to promote hollandaise, an item I order with caution at even the most reputable eateries, let alone a local franchise of a nationwide fast casual brand. That there has now passed nearly a full 24 hours with no ill effects is evidence enough that the sandwich is, at the very least, safe for consumption, and despite my preconceptions about the chain in general, the Prime Rib with Hollandaise Steak Sauce made for a surprisingly decent lunch.

The sandwich comprises thin sliced beef, a double portion of mozzarella cheese, sauteed mushrooms and “hollandaise” on pre-toasted (and then re-toasted) focaccia bun. Rounding out a flavor profile that includes some aggressively salted mushrooms garlicky bread, the heavily-herbed sauce, as it turns out,  bears as much resemblance to stadium mustard as it does hollandaise. The melted cheese serves little purpose but to bind the whole thing together as it coagulates. Ultimately the sandwich fails in all the ways you would expect: It’s greasy, packed with salt and leaves you with a lingering queasiness. But it also succeeds in some ways that might surprise you. The garlic bun, despite being twice toasted, retains a pleasing airiness. And the beef, though pretty much benign in flavor, is tender and lean and appears to have at least originated from an actual cow.

It’s safe to assume eating anything from a place like Quiznos is not generally health-savvy—and the nutrition information for the Prime Rib with Hollandaise is particularly horrific. If a meal is going to significantly shorten your lifespan, it better taste like the bomb. Whether the slightly above average taste of this sandwich justifies sacrificing 60 percent of your daily recommended sodium intake, or whether 8 grams of saturated fat is a price worth paying is for you to decide. I can say with some certainty that you will not contract salmonella, and you will not die as a result. At least not right away.


Chain Reactions features sandwiches offered at national chain sandwich shops.

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I didn’t actually know that Quizno’s was still in business, as they ALL seem to have gone out of business in places where I knew they previously existed. That said, I LOVED Quizno’s in college & ate at least two toasted tuna subs a week from the student center when I transferred to Kent. I actually find it infinitely more appealing than Subway, which I loathe.

In the course of writing this I found a trade pub interview with the new CEO. Apparently there was a major contraction of franchises in the past few years, and one strategy for boosting sluggish sales is more limited-time-only items.

As I said, I don’t think Quiznos is any more or less appetizing than Subway or others, necessarily, but does it seem to be priced consistently at a higher price point. The small version of this sandwich, which was roughly four inches, was $6.20, which could buy you most footlongs on the menu at Subway (for what it’s worth).

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