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There are the classics: Queenie’s Cheese Dream, Felini’s namesake, Bill and Ruth’s, Lambruscoz and Boston Deli. There are the new mortadellas on the block: Prism Cafe and Country Bird Bakery. And there’s the perennial champ, Trencher’s Dutch Crunch. Tulsa’s best sandwich is a coveted and elusive title. So when I heard the rumors of a $36 picanha steak sandwich at Doctor Kustom, I had to investigate.
I parked at Mother Road at 10:50 am, hoping to beat the line for this Thursday-only special, but ten people were already waiting. Chatting with my fellow sandwich enthusiasts, I learned that most were also here for the first time, though a few were weekly stalwarts. Half the line was retirement age, and I had to assume the rest worked remotely, or else were, like me, high school teachers whose planning periods conveniently fall right before lunch.
It’s not the fault of Doctor Kustom’s objectively clean and stylish interior, but something about this space on the corner of Mother Road is unsettling, like a sterile showroom for a corporatized Route 66 redux (The Pickup’s intrepid sandwich coverage previously reviewed Gambill’s Jewish Deli pricey sandwich at the same location.) The doors opened at 11:00 and the line crawled forward. I do mean crawled—it was 11:15 by the time I ordered, and I’m glad I had the foresight to ask for it to-go, because after the 30 minutes it took for the sandwich to come out, I was cutting it close to get back for fifth period.
Thin-sliced and generously portioned, the picanha steak is the main event in this sandwich and it lives up to the hype. Distinctively smoky and surprisingly tender, this unheralded cut avoids the stuck-in-your-teeth logistical pitfalls of subpar steak sandos. My only knock on the perfectly seasoned beef was its lukewarm temperature. Between long lines for the signature sandwich and a recent visit by Fox & Friends’ own Steve Doocey, perhaps Doctor Kustom is a victim of its own success, with quality control suffering as they work to keep up with all the demand.
The non-picanha elements of the sandwich, however, left much to be desired. While the ciabatta roll was fluffy with a slight crunch on the outside, there wasn’t much taste beyond the texture. A smattering of leafy greens were largely decorative, and the “torched” havarti barely registered. Most underwhelming was the sauce—the X-factor to any steak sandwich—skimpy in quantity and indistinguishable from a plain aioli. The total package was somehow less flavorful than the steak itself, and lacking something—salt, fat, acid, heat?—besides the steak.
The hefty price tag does include a side of steak or polenta fries (normally $8), and the polenta, formed into crispy geometric beauties with a latticed film of parmesan, were absolutely worth the trip. Dipped in the side of punchy chimichurri, these were by far the best bite of the combo.
Doctor Kustom’s other menu highlights include the pastel (Brazilian hot pocket) and the Guarana Antarctica (Brazil’s favorite soda), but after tax and tip my bill already topped $45. Might I suggest a reframing: rather than a sandwich, what if we treated this meal as a steak frites?
Suddenly, the long wait at lunchtime is luxurious, the price becomes reasonable, and the best elements of the dish—charred, pull-apart picanha and crunchy fried polenta pillows—shine on their own merits. The hunt for Tulsa’s best sandwich continues.
