Good Gravy! Sullivan’s Pot Roast Sandwich is Fine Comfort Food
Greg Wilson/Anderson Observer
There’s no shortage of places to grab lunch in Anderson, but everyone has those spots they turn to—no debate, no hesitation, just habit and happiness on a plate. Lunch Favorites isn’t a ranking or a review, and it’s definitely not another “best of” contest. Think of it more like a neighborhood conversation that wandered to food, as they always do, and someone said, “You know where I had a great meal the other day…”
These are the personal go-tos from someone who knows his way around town and a lunch menu—the sandwiches that never disappoint, the soups that feel like a small victory over a long morning, the places where the iced tea always tastes right. Because around here, consistency counts, and lunch—done well and done often—is worth celebrating.
Today’s Lunch Favorite: The Open-Faced Pot Roast Sandwich at Sullivan’s Metropolitan Grill
The open-faced pot roast sandwich lands squarely in the realm of classic American comfort food, and Sullivan’s Metropolitan Grill’s version checks every box that matters. The slow-cooked beef is properly tender, pulling apart with the nudge of a fork instead of resisting in chewy slabs, the clear sign of a roast that has spent hours braising until the connective tissue gives way. Each bite carries that deep, slow-developed beefiness that only comes from time and patience, not shortcuts.
What really makes the sandwich sing is the gravy (I ask for extra). Rather than a flat, salty afterthought, it comes through as a rich, brown pan sauce, thickened just enough to cling to the meat and pool invitingly around the edges of the plate. There is a roasted, almost caramelized depth to it, likely from simmered drippings and broth, that wraps the shredded roast in warmth without ever feeling gummy or over-reduced.
The bread—so often the weak link in lesser versions—holds its own here. A sturdy slice of toasted bread forms the base, substantial enough to support a load of beef and gravy while still soaking up all those juices into its crumb. By the time the knife cuts through, the bread has become something else entirely: a soft, savory, spoonable layer that bridges the line between sandwich and Sunday-supper plate.
Taken together, the tenderness of the roast, the lushness of the gravy, and the integrity of the bread turn this into a superior choice for lunch. It eats like a composed dish, one that feels nostalgic without being tired, indulgent without being messy for the sake of it. For anyone chasing the pure comfort of meat, gravy, and bread in perfect proportion, this open-faced pot roast sandwich is about as satisfying as it gets.
It's also big enough for two meals, and Sullivan’s is happy to box up the leftovers.
There are a few offerings for sides to this sandwich, but I always go for the french fries, which are hand-cut and delicious. Again, bonus points for good iced tea, though the new glasses are a little small.
