12 Arby's Sandwiches, Ranked Worst To Best

Picture this: It's 1964 in a small town in Ohio. Two local brothers have just opened up a small restaurant where roast beef sandwiches reign supreme, supported by potato chips, milkshakes, and other standard beverages. It's easily identifiable thanks to its cowboy hat-shaped sign out front, a sign that reads "Arby's".

Things have come a long way from this humble beginning and the original Arby's menu. It's continued to pile more and more meats onto its lineup for the last 60-plus years. You can't really live up to your slogan "We have the meats" without this kind of beefed-up business plan. The chain not only roasts beef now but also serves up brisket, corned beef, and burgers. Chicken and turkey sandwiches are abundant. Don't forget about bacon, ham, and gyro meat as well. Heck, the restaurant has even dabbled in venison and wagyu.

As many fast-food chains have had to learn the hard way, it's difficult to be a master of many different foods at once. At some point, the skill and luck run out. So is Arby's crazy to keep tacking on more proteins? Is the roast beef sandwich still its crown jewel? Or has it turned into just another relic in its museum of meats? To find out, I picked up 12 of Arby's most prominent sandwiches across every meat category, and ranked them on a mix of factors, from meat quality to execution to whether they felt worthy of a national fast-food menu.

Arby's didn't sell its first hamburger until 2022. It had previously kept its focus firmly on roast beef. But of course, the king of meats couldn't stop there. It even made a statement by launching into the burger game with a fancy wagyu steakhouse rendition. The chain has since traded in this extravagant menu item for a more classic lineup, but after giving the standard Deluxe option a shot, I think it should bring back the wagyu — or eliminate this food group altogether.

The meat itself appeared undercooked and even tasted gamey and spoiled. It's very possible that I just got a bad patty, seeing as I've had an Arby's burger before and didn't run into this issue. However, it ruined the entire sandwich for me. I took one bite and didn't go back for more. A shame, since the remainder of the toppings fared just fine. American cheese combined with lettuce, tomatoes, dill pickles, red onion, and a special burger sauce — a zesty combination of tomato paste, vinegar, sweet relish, egg yolk, sriracha chili sauce, mustard seed, garlic, and other seasonings. Everything even landed on an agreeable brioche bun.

Fast food and brisket don't seem like they should go together. The slow-cooked nature of brisket doesn't really fit into the whole quick-service design of these types of restaurants. Arby's tries it anyway, though, and even says it finds the time to smoke its meat for 13 hours before slopping it on a bun. The result is not as unsavory as it could have been. But it's not the chain's finest work either.

As a stack of sliced brisket, cheddar cheese, crispy onion strings, and BBQ sauce, all piled on a toasted brioche bun, the sandwich was disheveled and messy. The beef was fibrous, extra tough, and lacking enough marbling to give it that all-around richness. It also carried an artificially smoky taste, as though smoke flavors were piped in rather than naturally occurring from the cooking process. The cheese seemed unnecessary, and the BBQ sauce was mediocre — a little sweet, a little tangy, a little smoky.

The only real highlight here was the crispy onion strips. Crunchy, greasy, and blasted with flavors of garlic, onion, and salt, they're addictive. I'm starting a petition to add them to a menu as a standalone side. I'd pick them over curly fries any day.

Do you ever look at an item on a restaurant menu and think to yourself, "Who is ordering that?" That's exactly what I thought when I stumbled upon the Arby's chicken cordon bleu. It's obviously a fast-food-ified version of the culinary dish adopted from both French and Swiss cuisine — you won't actually find a ham and cheese-stuffed chicken roll hiding inside this brioche bun. But it still feels out of place.

An extra crispy fried chicken filet makes up the base of the sandwich, accompanied by a glob of mayonnaise and Big Eye Swiss cheese. Arby's could have stopped there, and I would have been satisfied. This basic build almost reminded me of something like the classic Popeyes chicken sandwich. The chicken has a nice crunch and tasty seasoning notes of black pepper and garlic.

It's the smoked ham that I didn't care for. Clumped on top, it doesn't jive with the rest. It tastes like any other deli ham you'd get from a bag at the grocery store, but the minute you set it on top of a hot piece of fried chicken, it becomes warm, slimy, and distasteful. So, with no hate to the original cordon bleu chicken and ham recipe, but Arby's take is far from haute cuisine.

For smaller appetites, there are always Arby's sliders. These tiny sammies slid onto the value menu in 2015 and are still around in flavors of ham, chicken, roast beef, buffalo chicken, and jalapeño roast beef. The latter piqued my interest, so I had to give it a try.

This thing was even smaller than I anticipated — perhaps two to three bites worth at most. The soft slider bun is the same size as a King's Hawaiian roll, but doesn't come with the same elite level of sweet, buttery flavor. The amount of meat thrown into it is even smaller. It offers that classic Arby's roast beef taste, but I would have needed about twice as much to really savor it. Swiss cheese is supposedly a part of the recipe, although it seems that my local restaurant skipped that detail. 

Then, there's the jalapeños. They aren't fresh jalapeño slices, but rather tiny pieces of fire-roasted jalapeño that taste more like green bell peppers with a small kick. They make for an interesting combination with the meat, to be sure, but it's one that I'm not sure I would seek out again. I think there's a reason why jalapeños haven't snuck their way onto the chain's full-sized roast beef sandwiches.

The crispy chicken sandwich surpasses the cordon bleu — a much more natural fast-food pickup, don't you think? It uses the same crispy chicken filet, brioche bun, and condiment (mayo), but instead of ham and Swiss, it opts for the simple sandwich combo of lettuce and tomato. The chicken, once again, has that crackly deep-fried edge to it and holds a lot of appeal thanks to Arby's seasoning blend of choice. Plus, it's true white meat chicken instead of a chicken patty, and there's plenty of it to go around. The filet even hangs over the edge of the bun.

As a whole, though, I have to admit the sandwich is rather blah. It's just missing that chicken sandwich wow factor that other chains have mastered. Even with the mayo, lettuce, and tomato, it tastes fairly dry. Even its online picture makes it look a bit parched. I would say, if you're really in the mood for chicken at Arby's, try the Chicken Bacon Swiss instead (it's dripping with honey mustard) or the buffalo chicken. Either that, or doctor up the crispy chicken with something like red onion or pickles for an extra pop of flavor.

The Loaded Italian sub was resurrected this year at the place with all the meats. It previously stood on the menu from 2015 to 2021, and apparently, consumers have been angrily asking for it back ever since. It appears they got their wish, at least for a limited time.

After giving it a try, though, I'm struggling to see what all the fuss was about. It tastes just like a generic, copy-and-paste Italian sub that you could get from just about anywhere. The sandwich is plenty meaty with ham, salami, and pepperoni thrown on. The accompaniments of Swiss cheese, lettuce, tomato, and onion are fine, and I did enjoy the added tang of the abundant banana peppers. However, they lost me at the bread and sauce.

The sub roll was sturdy but crackly — a far cry from the pillowy soft hoagie buns found at sub shops like Jersey Mike's or Jimmy John's. In addition, Arby's slathers its bread with a healthy coating of garlic aioli. Forgoing the customary combination of mayonnaise and an oil, vinegar, and herb blend is a bold choice, and one that didn't quite work out.

I would say that Arby's added a turkey sandwich to its menu to more closely compete with other fresh-food chains like Panera Bread or Jason's Deli. But honestly, I think it just piles various meats onto its menu simply because, at this point, it can.

Like all of Arby's handhelds (aside from the baby sliders), this sandwich is sizable, stocked with plenty of roast turkey. The slices even taste good as well, like turkey you would get fresh from the grocery store deli rather than a package in the refrigerator section. Crisp, fatty, and nearly melt-in-your-mouth, I was also impressed with the bacon — but don't expect a B.L.T.-sized portion. I was given what appeared to be mostly scraps. Cheddar cheese, shredded lettuce, onion, and tomato were solid picks to go with the meats, and I liked the choice of honey wheat bread as well. My only real complaint is that the Parmesan peppercorn ranch didn't flow with the rest. Nothing against the sauce itself. It's perfectly tasty, but I think a classic turkey sandwich warrants something a little simpler, like a clean dab of mayonnaise.

One other side note: Just because this sandwich contains turkey and greens, don't mistake it for a healthier choice on the menu. It actually has the highest calorie count of any sandwich in the taste test, standing at 810.

You may recall that at one time or another, Arby's offered a form of boneless chicken wings on its menu. I vividly remember popcorn chicken served in a cup — it's one discontinued fast-food item I would love to have back. You'd then pour your sauce over top, secure the dome-shaped plastic lid, and shake it to combine everything. The chain's buffalo chicken slider dredged up this childhood memory, which I had no idea I was harboring. The flavor of the buffalo sauce is exactly the same as it was back then, and the chicken is even better. 

Even with just one chicken tender on a sweet and fluffy slider bun, it's much bolder than you would expect — partially because the proportions are spot on. Unlike the earlier jalapeño roast beef slider, it delivers a much better ratio of meat to bread. The buffalo sauce doesn't tip the scales in terms of spice, but coats the mini sammie in just enough tangy, buttery flavor. And this is exactly the type of sandwich where Arby's Parmesan peppercorn ranch proves its worth — right next to buffalo sauce and crispy chicken, where it belongs. I think I could have polished off three, maybe four of these little bites in one sitting. I'm also committed to going back for that full-sized buffalo chicken sandwich.

This is the original Arby's sandwich. The chain has been slinging 'em since the very beginning, and they've since become such a staple that they're now offered in three distinct sizes: Classic, double, and half pound. I can also reveal that this is my own personal go-to order — as I'm sure it is for many other Arby's patrons. So ordering a classic roast beef alongside these other sandwiches felt like second nature. However, what didn't feel natural was ditching any accompaniments to get an honest taste of the thinly sliced beef in all its glory. And after tasting it plain, I started to wonder if what I'm addicted to is actually Arby's sauce rather than the sandwich itself.

The meat is every bit savory, hearty, and quality — even a little fatty in spots, which is A-okay with me. Wrapped up in a warm sesame seed bun, it's comforting and familiar, but it begs for a saucy garnish. Something to add a little razzle-dazzle. I love that the chain gives the meat that put it on the map a chance to shine. But all alone, the simple combination of beef and bread is a tough sell. Just make sure to always have a packet of Arby's sauce or Horsey sauce (the chain's version of horseradish) at the ready for this one, and you'll be golden.

"It's half the countries in the world on one sandwich," is how Arby's introduces its classic French dip and Swiss, but I'm only counting three countries involved in the making. You have au jus, courtesy of France, and cheese hailing from Switzerland. Then, roast beef from England? Or perhaps America? Maybe "half the countries" is a wild exaggeration, but I can admit, it does have some world-class flavor.

It's everything you love about the original roast beef sandwich just on a longer, fluffier roll and topped with a layer of melty Swiss. And like the original, it's also the slightest bit bland when eaten all by itself — it too comes with no condiment by default. However, that's exactly what the side of au jus is for. It may not be the richest, most gourmet cup of au jus I've ever had, but it's more savory than your standard beef broth, enriched with garlic powder, onion powder, beef extract, and natural smoke flavor.

This is a sneakily good menu option that I've admittedly overlooked in the past. I would certainly recommend it. But I would also warn you to wait until you get home to dig in — this one will get messy.

Beef takes on a different form in this Arby's classic. It's the only sandwich on the menu to trade roast beef for corned beef, and it's a swap that pays off surprisingly well.

Even from the start, it looks like a sandwich born in a bustling New York deli. All that was missing was someone impatiently yelling out at me, "cawned beef rooben!" It sits on two slices of beautifully marbled rye bread, and the meat slices inside are distinctly pink, separating it from the other deep brown roast beef sammies. The earthy, tangy taste of the bread complements the brine of the beef, and your taste buds are enlivened even more thanks to the additional toppings. Swiss cheese makes another appearance, and Arby's holds even tighter to tradition with the inclusion of both sauerkraut and Thousand Island dressing.

I would have liked a bit more sourness from the sauerkraut and a heavier Dijon mustard punch from the Thousand Island — this sandwich leans more into its tomato and pickle base, closer to a thin burger sauce. However, considering their quick service source, I'd say both are pretty tasty, defying the odds stacked against them and helping to make up a sandwich that gives all Arby's lovers a taste of the Big Apple.

I don't care what anybody says, this sandwich is what Arby's is all about. It's a prime example of taking an already unique and superior item and elevating it rather than bogging it down or covering up its original appeal.

The Beef 'N Cheddar builds on the chain's claim-to-fame roast beef by adding two key ingredients and making one important swap. First, it adds Cheddar cheese sauce (the name likely gave this one away). It's really nothing more than a glorified nacho cheese — the same kind they give you in a cup alongside your curly fries — but set against the savory roast beef, it just feels right. Next up is Arby's zesty red ranch sauce. Close to a sweet and sour, with no resemblance to ranch dressing whatsoever, it gives the sandwich a new and interesting kick. As an Arby's sauce stan, I would've loved to see that in the mix instead, but I have no beef with the red ranch. Lastly, the classic sesame seed bun is swapped out for a large onion roll. No explanation needed for that last one. How could a sweet onion, bagel-like bun be bad?

That's all she wrote, and all she needed to write. Just meat and two sauces on an onion bun. Simple yet toothsome and complex. And if you're craving even more heft, you can always upgrade to a double or half-pound sammie.

​​Arby's has the meats and the variety, there's no denying that. No matter what kind of sandwich you're in the mood for (big, small, beefy, poultry-focused, saucy, or topping-heavy), it's on the menu. But that doesn't necessarily mean one is going to be just as good as the last. Some, like the burger and brisket, paled when it came to meat quality. Others need to rethink their toppings or condiments of choice — they need more cohesion or an extra dose of all-around flavor.

On the flip side, something like the buffalo chicken slider was able to stand out, despite its small size, thanks to execution and stand-out sauces. And, judging by my top four sandwiches, the chain's sliced beef (both roast and corned) really is the meat category that dominates the menu. These handhelds are the true meat and potatoes of the chain and classics that will never be pushed out by rotating poultry, burger experiments, or limited-time subs.