Once again we are sacrificing sandwich integrity for the sake of virality: The TikTok chefs are making chopped sandwiches and chopping them far too much, creating fillings that are somewhere between “egg salad” and “pre-chewed” in texture. I’ll pass, thanks!
Online, the very-chopped sandwich trend started relatively recently, picking up with the chopped grinder sandwiches that made the rounds last spring and summer. Videos of chopped sandwiches account for millions of views on the platform, and the trend has extended into all kinds of chopped sandwiches. Last spring, the creator Lirim Gula began a series that he described as “a journey to piss every nation off through the form of chopped sandwiches.”
Hoagies and, more recently, bagels haven’t been spared either. One example of the latter, featuring a heavily chopped mixture of cream cheese and lox, prompted my colleague Jaya Saxena to remark that it’s already a thing: lox spread.
In real life, the trend has some precedent: The Brooklyn corner store the Farmer in the Deli has, for years, been known for its chopped sandwiches that go beyond the city’s typical chopped cheese. And this is, to be clear, no shade against the chopped cheese specifically. (Well, I guess a little shade: I’m from the Philadelphia area and am therefore obligated to consider the cheesesteak superior.) But the chopped cheese is a kind of made-in-New York peculiarity; it doesn’t need to be a whole genre of viral sandwich.
I somewhat understand the assembly logic of the very-chopped sandwich: You’re ensured a little bit of every component in every bite. At the same time though, isn’t that just what you’re supposed to get with any well-assembled sandwich, without the contents having to be pulverized into near-paste beforehand? In fact, I find the most satisfying sandwiches are ones with enough integrity — with every component packed so tightly together — that I can take a clean bite through every layer with no piece of meat or cheese getting pulled out of place. I eye the chopped sandwiches with suspicion, imagining a trail of shredded lettuce in the wake of my bite.
The predecessor to the very-chopped sandwich is, obviously, the very-chopped salad, like the kinds that Melissa Ben-Ishay of Baked by Melissa began popularizing on TikTok a few years ago. Her green goddess salad, which went hugely viral in early 2022, existed on the previously underexplored — and, it turns out, surprisingly thin — dividing line between salad and dip. It seems a little watery and masticated for my tastes. Alas, the very-chopped sandwich is basically a Baked by Melissa salad, except between bread.
If Ishay is TikTok’s very-chopped salad evangelist, then creators like the aforementioned Gula and Marcus Costanzo are the patron saints of the very-chopped sandwich. Their videos of their sandwiches are prototypical TikTok: Everything happens in quick cuts, with aggressive movements and heavy chopping and plopping sounds. Costanzo’s videos are especially uncanny since he essentially assembles his sandwich in layers on the cutting board before chopping them into submission and putting them in bread. Who can argue with results though? Costanzo’s chopped sandwich videos get views in the many millions.
What really bugs me about the trend is the fact this very-chopped food seems as much a TikTok trend as it is a made-for-TikTok manipulation. If Instagram gave rise to photo-ready food, TikTok has spawned a new era of performative dishes, with a dynamic appeal calibrated for video (the cheese oozes; the yolk pops). Indeed, the only innovation these chopped sandwiches really offer is that they are extremely chopped. This isn’t essential or, as I’ve argued, even additive to the sandwich experience, but it promises an unexpected sense of reveal and that’s what matters on the platform.
The chopping, and the visuals of the messy cutting board, are hooks that get you to stop scrolling, even if just to wonder what in God’s name they’re doing to the perfectly fine contents of a breakfast bagel.
