A Highly Volatile Opinion on The Best Damn Sandwich in Dallas

At a party recently someone asked me about my favorite meal these days. I told them, coincidently, at lunch I had the best sandwich ever. Their attention was rapt. Rapt.

"Oh, really what sandwich?" she asked with big eyes.

"It was [I paused ... getting a sense I might not stick the landing here] a fried bologna sandwich," I said sheepishly. The words tumbled out with no grace. I was expecting neither this question nor the answer, honestly.

She threw her head back and cackled and looked at me again like, "No, really."

I stared down into my wineglass.

I didn't have the social battery to explain this isn't your standard mustard and white bread sandwich from long, boring summer days when the parents left us at home all day. This is an AP sandwich. This sandwich sits in the front row at graduation, even though you haven't seen them in four years. Trust, my sweet.

And it was inauspiciously designed by a long-time restaurateur to be exactly that.
Chad Dolezal is a Dallas native who went to high school at W.T. White. He's always been in the restaurant business, and after moving back to the area following a tenure in Austin, he opened Cenzo's in Oak Cliff in a refurbished gas station. It's a lovely hipster commune with from-scratch pizza, local beer and an outdoor play space for kids.

There are a lot of big hitters on the menu. Like the Italian beef loaded with spicy house-made giardiniera, provolone and garlic aioli served with a bowl of au jus. But dig a bit deeper for The Francy Fried Bologna sandwich.

Years ago Dolezal and a childhood friend somehow struck up a fascination with this iconic American sandwich, even stopping at a spot on a trip to Nashville: Robert's, a famous honky tonk bar known for its simple fried bologna sandwich.

When they put it on the menu at Cenzo's, he knew it was a long shot, but he was determined to endure.

"It's funny, it was called The Fried Mortadella, and no one bought it," Dolezal laughs. "I mean, literally one of my partner's moms was the biggest purchaser of it. And then we changed it to The Fancy Fried Bologna, and it sells a lot more now, but it's still probably our lowest-selling sandwich."

The Makings of a Great Bologna Sandwich

The sandwich starts with a fresh pile of peppery arugula dressed with olive oil and lemon. Three thin slices of bologna (actually, Boar's Head mortadella) get a light char from the grill. Then — key here — is a smear of pistachio butter: nuts, olive oil, honey and a touch of water blended in-house. This gritty spread gives the sandwich a touch of sweet nuttiness that dances — perfectly in-step — with the peppery arugula and salty meat. Buttery toasted white bread from La Francaise Bakery in Garland holds it all together. Chef's (and we never say this) kiss.

It's so simple. A humble head-of-the-class bologna sandwich.

"I love that sandwich," Dolezal says. "I love that we make the pistachio butter. There's parts of us in it. It's an industry sandwich through and through. And it's so funny: it is people working in this industry, who like to dive into a menu, who order it. I bet eight out of 10 people who order it work in this industry somehow."

Order a local beer to go with it and find a quiet corner to soak it all up.

But the good sandwiches don't stop there. If you're skeptical, as a backup plan order the thinly sliced Italian beef ($15).  Just be sure to grab a spoon to ladle the bits of beef and spicy giardiniera out of the bottom of the au jus bowl when you're done. You might need a swirl of the soft serve to cool down your jets after.

The skillfully procured playlist at Cenzo's might catch your attention too. This is another piece of Dolezal's soul.

"I looked at when David Bowie released Ziggy Stardust, and that was '72, so that's as far back as we go [the playlist]," he explains. " (...) and then we end it at '96 because, honestly, I have strong feelings towards new metal, and they're not positive. And '96 is when Limp Bizkit and all that kind of took over the radio."

So the music heard at Cenzo's starts in '72  and ends in '96, with a good dose of Bowie, hip-hop and even Erasure thrown in (a tribute to Dolezal's sister).

It's restaurants like this, with personal touches and soul, that make dining out fun. Finding a gem isn't just about a space but about nuggets on the menu, the art, the music and even fried bologna sandwiches.

Happy hour at Cenzo's is fun too. Get frozen adult cocktails (frose, spritz and a swirl) for $5 each all day Tuesday and from 3 to 6 p.m., Monday – Friday.

Cenzo's Pizza & Deli, 1700 W. 10th St. Tuesday - Sunday, 11 a.m. – 9 p.m. Closed Monday.