Oh the Three Little Piggy sandwich, whatever could I say? Ever since your launch into the national consciousness thanks to slightly gratuitous scene on No Reservations where Anthony Bourdain called you the "greatest sandwich in America," and the "apex of the sandwich making art," you've been paraded around as Chicago's over-the-top sandwich of choice. Perhaps mentioning you again is too obvious. In fact, maybe I'm doing you and your restaurant, The Silver Palm, a disservice.
See, you've become more of an experience and less of a sandwich. Too often you're mentioned as something to cross off a list, especially since you're outlandishly big and nearly impossible to finish in one go.
But you're so much more than just a dare. You're three layers of pork goodness (the name isn't for nothing): breaded pork tenderloin, bacon, and, perhaps most dramatically, a huge slab of shockingly tender double smoked ham. Of course, that's not all. There's also room for melted gruyere, an onion ring, and, perched on top, a fried egg.
You are ridiculous. You are out of control. But! The secret to your success is that you're a restrained gut-busting sandwich. While there is bacon, there's no 2-inch hunk of fatty pork belly to get through. The ingredients could have added up to a decadent mess, but instead all the elements are able to make their presence known. You don't make sense. But that's okay, because neither does The Silver Palm. This is a restaurant where most of the diners eat in an old dining train car, and which also happens to serve one of the better Margaritas—clean, crisp, and strong—in town. But no matter. When dealing with something this delicious, nothing has to make sense.
The Silver Palm
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