The Gramophone's sandwiches strike a harmonious chord

Since February 2015, the former concert venue in The Grove has billed itself as a "sandwich pub."

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We're holding down a stool at The Gramophone around noon, ruminating on when exactly it was the whole hipster thing became officially commodified.

For the moment, it's just us and a few workers grabbing lunch. No one looks to be of the hipster persuasion, except maybe the man at the bar wearing his tie in a Balthus knot, which qualifies as artsy, if not exactly hipster. Finally, a guy with a picture of kittens on his T-shirt comes over to tell us that we have to go to the bar to order. So we do. And sit some more and wait and look around.

It’s a bar—or, at least, the atmosphere is distinctly bar-ish. There is a set of taps so long, if  LeBron James laid down next to them, his toes might be next to the Four Hands Cast Iron Oatmeal Brown handle and his forehead might be beside the one that dispenses Schlafly's Coffee Stout. Around 20 beers are on tap: stouts, ales, IPAs, Hefeweizen...all of them from local breweries, such as Four Hands, The Civil Life, Schlafly, and nearby Urban Chestnut. More beers are available in cans and bottles, and some charts on the wall are chalked with beer specials for every day of the week, including one labelled “Shitty Beer.”

There is the sense that one could spend a few years trying to work one’s way through the mixed drinks here without really denting the possibilities. We watch as a blackberry mint-infused rum mojito emerges from behind the bar. And a chocolate martini. And a couple of Moscow Mules. We think about ordering a Manhattan, but it seems too easy. Besides that, The Gramophone has Excel sodas, and only a fool would pass up the opportunity for a Lucky Club.

From its outer appearance, it’s a good guess that the building housing The Gramophone was built toward the last innings of the 19th century. The brick entablature, recessed door, and modestly corniced windows are all hallmarks of Renaissance Revival architecture, the sort that lines a lot of streets in the neighborhood. When the place was new, beer in St. Louis was often fetched in buckets by boys who hauled it into workplaces for tips. (The Gramophone might consider this type of delivery service—hire someone to scurry down to Urban Chestnut and come back with a bucket of Chouteau Joe Stout.) And the patio out back is a thoroughly pleasant spot to spend a long evening.

But back to the matter at hand: the commodification of the hipster life. When did it become, like social-cause wristbands and cold-cereal cafés, just another marketing opportunity? Was it when Urban Outfitters began selling clothes reminiscent of those you might see at a yard sale? When jeans became so skinny, they essentially morphed into leggings?

Then we are interrupted by the appearance of a sandwich: the Club, the first on a menu that includes two dozen other sandwiches. The kitchen didn’t skimp, not on the sliced turkey, the roast beef, the rashers of bacon. There's also lots of shredded lettuce, tomatoes, a slab of pepper jack cheese, and a dressing that tastes like mayo mixed with Sriracha—spicy and smooth—that brings it all together.

What distracts us, though, is the bread.

You can make a good sandwich with great bread and mediocre fillings. You cannot, however, make a great sandwich without great bread, no matter the ingredients. The Gramophone’s bread is great. It would be great just as it comes from Fazio’s, but The Gramophone has the brilliance to butter and toast it.

The same bread, with the same butter, is used on the roast beef sandwich, except the butter is loaded with crushed garlic, and the results are equally impressive—maybe more so. It has a toasty, pleasantly airy crumb. Beautiful. It’s dense enough to stand up to the cup of meaty concentrated jus, light enough to hold the layers of roast beef without getting squishy. A roast beef sandwich with a dip is a challenging balance, but The Gramophone walks the tightrope admirably.

If you think we’re going into a sandwich place without trying the Reuben, then you never really knew us at all. A hefty pile of corned beef braised in Busch beer (genius) is laid between sauerkraut and covered with sheets of melting Swiss—all pressed between warm swirled rye and dressed with a big ‘ol dollop of Thousand Island. It's imminently satisfactory.

And while we're at it, we have a bite of the Frenchy, with slices of chicken and bacon, onions, mushrooms, and Swiss cheese, dressed with a red wine aioli on a baguette topped with sesame seeds. As with the other sandwiches, the ingredients are fine, nicely paired, well-dressed—and the bread is lovely, including the tortillas used for a popular special, the UFO. And there's a sandwich on sourdough: the Danimal, with ham, turkey, roast beef, salami, and an avocado spread.

There is a lot of live music at The Gramophone throughout the week. There are also DJ nights because, well, vinyl is so much better. There’s a pool table, lots of board games, a dartboard, and a skee-ball/putting-style game that just looks like a boomeranging golf ball accident in the making.

There is also a lot of, shall we say, opportunities to commercially express your sentiments about The Gramophone: T-shirts, hoodies, and such, emblazoned with the name of the place and exhortations to “Drink Local” and reminders that this place is home of “Sandwichkingz.” Would purchasing and wearing a T-shirt advertising a particular hangout be self-contradictory? Or just, you know, “ironic"?

The Gramophone

4243 Manchester Avenue, St. Louis, Missouri 63110

314-531-5700

Visit Website

Tues-Sun 11 a.m. – 3 a.m.

Inexpensive

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