The Original French Dipped: LA’s Iconic Sandwich and Where to Dip in Coronado

Did you know that the French “Dipped” sandwich was invented in Los Angeles? Yes, I said “dipped,” not “dip.” Two restaurants in Los Angeles, Philippe and Cole’s, claim to have invented the famous sandwich; the phrase “French Dipped” is emblazoned on both their signs. Fun fact, but I digress.

The local LA papers recently announced that Cole’s is closing after 117 years in business. I had missed culinary opportunities in the past, and I wasn’t going to let this iconic restaurant close without making a pilgrimage to the City of Angels to sample both French-dipped sandwiches, one from Philippe and one from Cole’s. We may never know who the actual originator was, but I am more interested in the 117-year-long rivalry that ensued. 

Each of the two establishments has its unique charm. Philippe, a bustling cafeteria-style eatery, is designed for efficiency and high volume. It’s reminiscent of the famous Katz’s Deli in New York. On the other hand, Cole’s exudes a different vibe with its elegant, dark wood and leather aesthetic, table service, and a full bar. 

My girlfriend Georgia and I made a recent pilgrimage to the French-dipped promise land. The plan was lunch at Philippe and an early dinner at Cole’s. Philippe opens early for breakfast, but we arrived about 11 am for lunch. From the moment we walked in, you could tell this was a much-loved place. We were lucky to have arrived when we did. Philippe was built for volume, and it is a popular spot before Dodger games. 

The sandwiches we chose were delicious and straightforward. We ordered a classic beef with American cheese and a pastrami with Swiss. We were then asked how we wanted our sandwich: single dipped, double dipped, or wet. Let me explain, single-dip is simply dipping the cut side of one piece of bread in the jus. The Jus being the liquid that results from cooking the meat. Double-dip is when both top and bottom pieces of the bread are dipped. Wet is when they dunk the entire sandwich. We opted for double-dipping on both; the wet didn’t seem to make sense, as each sandwich does come with a side of jus if you need to further indulge. Meat, cheese, and a bun, that’s all it is.

There was, however, hot mustard on the table; it is a missed opportunity if you don’t go big on the mustard. I reapplied after every bite. The mustard went straight to my nose like a large bump of wasabi. The bread was soft and acted like a sponge, soaking up the jus we were devouring. We thoroughly enjoyed our sandwiches, then left. We had work to do. There is no real reason to linger at Philippe; it is designed to turn and burn. 

After killing a few hours at different rooftop bars in Downtown LA, we headed to Cole’s. As the restaurant came into view we knew we had blown it big time. As we arrived at Cole’s, we saw the epic line that had formed, so I jumped out to queue up and Georgia went to find parking. The line was two and a half hours long, but we had fun conversations with some Angelinos who told entertaining stories of Cole’s back in the day.

When we finally breached the front door the atmosphere was warm and inviting despite the crowd. I could see myself hanging out at Cole’s shooting pool, enjoying a cocktail, and grabbing some food in the form of the famous French-dipped sandwich. These however were not normal times, and out of respect to the fellow pilgrims, we dipped, we downed our beers, and headed out to make room for the next fans. 

Once we had the benefit of both sandwiches on board we didn’t spend too much time comparing and contrasting; both spots make a great French Dip. We prefer the bread at Philippe and the atmosphere at Cole’s. Since our trip to Los Angeles, they’ve extended the closing date of Cole’s from August 2 to mid-September, so there’s still time, but you have to want it. The drive and the line are no joke. 

We had a lot of time to talk about our experience on the way back to San Diego. Both Georgia and I loved the two spots, and I was thrilled to have experienced both “originators.” After much thought, I had an epiphany: original doesn’t mean best. To be the original is an honor, but it is also a huge responsibility to keep everything the same. Over the 100-plus years since its invention, the French Dip has evolved due to creative chefs putting their twist on things, better meats, fancy cheeses, and artisanal breads; the variations are endless.

I have been following a Chef in New York with a shop called Salt Hank’s, and no joke, I may have to take a trip to the Big Apple. Salt Hank’s is known for its innovative take on the French Dip, and I’ve heard rave reviews about their version. In the meantime, lucky for us, there is a restaurant in town that has its own take on the French Dip. I am, of course, talking about Little Frenchie. Little Frenchie is a local gem that has been serving up delicious French Dips for years. I have had their version of the French Dip before, but they have recently elevated it, making it a must-try for any French Dip enthusiast. 

The Little Frenchie’s take on the classic starts with a fresh baguette that they get from one of San Diego’s premier bakeries, Prager Brothers, and it is just perfect, with a nice crust and a pillowy interior. The star of the show is the garlic-rubbed, Prime roasted beef that is sliced thin and dipped in Jus before taking its place in the sandwich. The cheese is what made it for me. Comte is a French semi-hard cheese made from unpasteurized cow’s milk. I would say it is close in taste to Gruyere, but that would be doing it a disservice; it is so much more than any Gruyere I have ever tasted. I loved the tangy aftertaste. The following ingredients never existed on the French dip originals, but I have to say they add so much in the way of flavor. Little Frenchie adds an aioli and caramelized onions. The jus could not have been more delicious, as it is the base of Little Frenchie’s French onion soup. To dip or not to dip is up to you; both bites I took with or without jus made me very happy. The original from either Phillipe’s or Cole’s requires the jus because both are essentially just meat, cheese, and bun. The jus for the originals is the glue that binds and makes the sandwich whereas if the jus were absent, the Little Frenchie version would do just fine. That being said, dip your sandwich; it is what the food gods intended. I will however be bringing some hot mustard to the party next time I get my French Dip fix at Little Frenchie. 

There are two other French Dips in town. Not traditional, but in the spirit of an “Irish Dip” can be found at McP’s, made with turkey and served with a thick brown gravy. This unique twist on the classic French Dip offers a fun and flavorful alternative to the original. I have fallen prey to this sandwich too many times after a Guinness or three, the empty gravy bowl and lack of French fries on my plate are always embarrassing. The Henry, on the other hand, offers a slightly more gentrified version of a turkey dip served with a lighter brothy chicken jus. If ordering this sandwich, the pro tip from two of my favorite bartenders, Ashley and Katie, is to add arugula, mushrooms, and onions. The extra goodies aren’t on the menu but are highly recommended. 

There you have it. To sum things up, the original French dips are fun and delicious and if in LA I highly recommend a visit. Truth be told though, a short walk up town to little Frenchie will get you a world class upgrade that will tickle your taste buds. Got to dip, see you up town.