When recipe developer and content creator Henry Laporte opened Salt Hank’s in the West Village last summer, he didn’t do so quietly. He set out to become, in his words, “the new sandwich king of New York City”, snatching the crown from Bradley Cooper and his Philly cheesesteak throne at Danny and Coop’s that had an equally exciting opening across town earlier in the year. But I believe the world of sandwiches is a democracy, not a monarchy, so I set out for myself to see just what kind of kingdom Salt Hank was trying to build.
It’s true that Salt Hank’s opened with much fanfare. The restaurant went viral on a few fronts, most notably for the length of the lines that formed at opening, the small size of the menu (two items: a French dip sandwich and a side of fries), and the high cost of those two menu items. Customers reported nearly hour-long lines stretching down Bleecker Street, and for most of the summer, my social media feeds were filled with pictures of the oozy French dip. It helps that Laporte boasts over two and a half million followers on TikTok, and many of the videos that customers share on the platform of his French dip tag him in their captions.
The sandwich itself is gluttonous. Tucked inside a baguette from the New York-based bakery and restaurant, Frenchette, you’ll find shaved prime rib from Pat LaFrieda, seven-hour caramelized onions, melty provolone cheese, and a biting horseradish aioli, served with a side of herby au jus for dipping. The fries are extremely thin and crispy — even calling them fries feels generous.
At the time of their opening, the French dip cost $28, and the fries cost $7, with a $35 combo option that included both and a bottled beverage. When I visited Salt Hank’s in early January, the price of the French dip alone had increased to $34, and the combo had increased to $41. These aren’t insignificant price increases, but I have a lot of respect for the quality of the ingredients, the time it takes to prepare the sandwiches, and the integrity behind the hands in the kitchen, which is why I wanted to visit Salt Hank’s in the first place. Now that the lines have (mostly) settled, is the viral French Dip at Salt Hank’s actually worth the hype (and the price)?
The restaurant sits next to John’s Pizzeria on a fairly busy strip of Bleecker Street. When I visited, the line that formed before the shop opened at 11:30 a.m. was orderly and maintained by the staff. I got in line on a Sunday at 12:45 p.m., peak West Village hours, as the line was made up of out-of-towners toting Levain Bakery doggy bags and ‘I Heart NY’ baseball caps. I waited in line for 20 minutes, and before I had reached the end of the line, an employee asked me if I was placing my order to stay or to go. Since I was taking it to meet a friend, she gave me a ticket, and I was able to head inside to place my order, skipping the three parties ahead of me that were waiting for a table.
Inside, Salt Hank’s maintained a surprisingly quiet energy. Staff ran orders quickly through the dining room and to those waiting for to-go orders outside. Customers enjoyed their sandwiches quietly, which I took as a good sign — when you’re eating something truly delicious, it’s hard to say anything more than, “Yum…”.
By 1:10 p.m. I had secured my French dip and fries, making what I expected to be a long experience at the shop only 25 minutes. I walked 10 minutes to meet a friend nearby, and we ripped open the greasy tin foil, the steaming sidecar of au jus building anticipation.
I wasn’t surprised to find that the sandwich was really good. The funny thing about word of mouth is that most of the time, it’s right. In this case, it was spot on. Salt Hank’s French dip is a triumphant umami bomb — intensely satisfying and delicious. It’s well-flavored and texturally successful, the baguette just softened enough by all the cheese and dredge, avoiding any cuts or bruises to the roof of my mouth. It’s a great sandwich, and Laporte has come close to earning the royal title he set out to achieve when he opened Salt Hank’s last summer.
That being said, it’s an expensive sandwich that has only gotten more expensive. Even at its opening-day price of $28, customers felt cautious to indulge at that price point. But even with a now $34 price tag, I believe the French dip is completely worth the hype. I find a lot of sincerity behind Laporte’s mission in opening Salt Hank’s. He set out to make a great sandwich, one that is beloved, discussed, and debated, and for better or worse, that’s what he’s achieved. The sandwich drips with integrity as much as it does the melted provolone or au jus, and you can’t help but share Laporte’s pride in what he’s created. It’s a French dip worth applauding, and I think many would agree.
At the end of the day, something as humble as a truly great sandwich might just be the only thing we can all agree on. I find that sentiment to be priceless.
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